Chapter 4
Over the next two weeks, the war was fought on every front.
In the media, Helen painted herself as a grieving mother whose son was being persecuted.
She arranged interviews, donated to charities, and smiled for the cameras.
People began to feel sorry for her.
In business, she tried to convince investors that the scandal was temporary and that Langford Group was still stable.
But behind closed doors, debts were piling up.
Suppliers were demanding payment.
Banks were reviewing their loans.
Meanwhile, our own plan moved forward silently.
Through trusted financial advisors, we bought shares whenever they became available.
By the end of the third week, we held 18% of the company.
But inside my own family, the rift was growing.
Marcus started attending social events with Helen’s associates.
He stopped returning my calls promptly.
When we did speak, he only warned me to “be careful.”
My younger sister Clara was torn.
She visited me often, but her eyes were full of confusion.
“Cousins are saying Father is being too aggressive,” she told me. “They say he is trying to take over Langford for himself, not for you.”
“It is for me and my baby,” I said firmly. “If we do nothing, they will try again. They will never stop until they have what they want.”
Clara nodded slowly.
“I believe you. But it is hard when everyone else is talking the other way.”
One afternoon, our legal team brought in a new piece of information.
“Elena,” the lead lawyer said. “We have found documents showing that Daniel and Liana were planning to leave the country within three days. They had already booked flights and transferred small amounts of money to offshore accounts.”
My blood ran cold.
“They were going to run away and leave me to die.”
“Exactly,” Father said. “That changes the crime from assault to attempted murder. If we present that evidence, the case shifts completely.”
But Helen was one step ahead.
Before we could file the documents, she made a surprise announcement.
She filed for a temporary custody order, claiming I was mentally unfit to care for my child.
The court hearing was set for just three days later.
I sat in the hospital room, my hands resting on my stomach, feeling my daughter kick.
She was strong, but the stress was wearing me down.
“Father, what if they win?” I asked. “What if they take her from me?”
He placed his hand over mine.
“They will not win,” he said. “But we have to be smarter than they are. We have to show not just what they did, but who they really are.”
On the morning of the hearing, as we prepared to leave, my security chief came in with a serious expression.
“Sir,” he said. “We have intercepted a conversation. Helen has paid a doctor to testify that Elena has a history of emotional instability. And she has arranged for someone to try and create a scene outside the court to make it look like Elena is dangerous.”
I froze.
They were not just lying—they were actively sabotaging every chance I had.
Father stood up, his expression hardening into a mask of calm resolve.
“Let them try,” he said. “Every dirty trick they play will only give us more evidence to bury them with.”
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And as we walked out to the car, I realized this battle was no longer just about justice.
It was a fight for my daughter’s future—and they would stop at nothing to tear us apart.
