Page 225 of From Rivals to I Do

Her words cut deep, reopening old wounds that I thought had healed. But I refuse to let her undermine the happiness I have found with Maya and the

love we share. I stand firm, my voice resolute as I respond to Margaret's ultimatum.

Finally, Margaret speaks, her voice softer but tinged with lingering anger. "Jackson, I hope you know what you're doing. Henry's happiness is at stake, and

I won't let him suffer because of your choices. I expect you to keep your promises."

"I will, Margaret," I reply, determination coursing through my veins. "I will do everything in my power to ensure Henry's happiness and well-being. Maya

and I are in this together, and we will create a loving home for him."

The line crackles with tension, our words hanging in the air like suspended flames. Margaret's voice cuts through the silence, sharp and unforgiving.

"You've made a grave mistake, Jackson," she says, her tone laced with finality. "I will be keeping a close eye on this situation. Don't think for a moment that I won't take action if I feel it necessary."

I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the impact of her words. I have always yearned for Margaret's acceptance and her validation of my choices

as a father. But now, in this moment, I realize that her approval is not what defines me. It is the love and connection I share with Maya and Henry that

truly matter.

"I understand, Margaret," I say, my voice resolute. "We will continue to do what's best for Henry, regardless of your opinion. Goodbye."

As I end the call, the weight of Margaret's disapproval lingers, but I refuse to let it consume me.

When I step through the front door that evening, the weariness of the day clings to my bones, my mind still replaying the tense conversation I had with Margaret earlier.

I find Maya painting, but her eyes flick up to meet mine as I enter the room. "Hey," I say, my voice gentle. "How are you, love? Did you have a good day?"

She smiles, spreading her arms to embrace me while still holding her paintbrush. "Yeah, I did. I have been painting since morning. I'm working on this masterpiece that will be a stunner."

"Wow, I can't wait to see the finished work. It looks incredible already," I say, taking in the strokes and figures she's already painted. "Where's Henry?" I ask.

"Oh, he came back a while ago and just went to sleep right away. Guess he was really exhausted at school," Maya says, her voice filled with compassion.

When I'm a bit settled, I tell Maya about Margaret's call. "Margaret called me today," I begin.

Maya's brows furrow in response, and she sets the book aside, giving me her full attention. "What did she want?" she asks, her voice laced with apprehension.

I take a seat next to her, grasping her hand in mine, finding solace in the warmth of her touch. "She wanted to check on how things were going with Henry," I explain, my voice steady. "And she made sure to remind me of her threat to challenge my custody in court if I don't measure up."

Maya's grip on my hand tightens, her eyes searching mine for reassurance. "What did you tell her?" she asks, her voice quivering slightly.

"I told her about our marriage." Maya's eyes widen just as I get the words out of my mouth.

"Oh my God! What did she say? Did she approve? Did she believe it?" she asks, worry etched on her face.

"Hey, Maya, relax. Everything will be fine. She wasn't happy about the news, but that is just typical of Margaret. She can't do anything to us," I assure her.

"Okay, Jackson, if you say so," Maya says, a bit calmer than before.

A soft smile curves my lips as I squeeze her hand. "I told her that we are committed to Henry's well-being and that we have created a loving home for him. We're fine."

Relief washes over Maya's face, but I can still see a flicker of unease lingering in her eyes.

Barely a week later, the doorbell rings, jolting us from our domestic tranquility. I exchange a puzzled glance with Maya as I rise to answer it, a nagging suspicion gnawing at the back of my mind. I swing open the door, and my heart drops at the sight before me—Margaret stands there, an uninvited presence on our doorstep.

"Margaret," I say, my voice laced with a mixture of surprise and wariness. "What brings you here?"

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