Page 8 of Redeeming Melodies

LEGAL CROSSFIRE

The wall of cameras hit before I even pulled into the courthouse parking lot. Vultures with press badges, hungry for the fall of a racing champion. Their flashes exploded against my windshield like starter lights, but this wasn't a race I knew how to run.

"Mr. Blue! Is it true about the custody battle?" "Elliot! Why did you really leave racing?" "Sources say your mental state?—"

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, knuckles going white. The Porsche's engine hummed, begging to accelerate through this circus. Wouldn't that be something for their headlines? 'Racing Champion Mows Down Reporters.' Vanessa's lawyers would love that.

Cassidy's town car pulled up beside me, her driver expertly creating a barrier between my Porsche and the media frenzy. Even through the tinted glass, I could see her mouth set in that battle-ready line that meant someone was about to regret crossing her.

"Ready?" Her voice crackled through my phone. "Security's clearing a path. Head high, no comments, straight to the door. Like we practiced."

Like we practiced. Everything was rehearsed now – my walk, my expressions, even the fucking tie she'd made me wear because it made me look "responsible and grounded." As if a piece of silk could convince anyone I deserved to keep my son.

The gauntlet from car to courthouse felt longer than any pit lane I'd ever walked. Microphones thrust at my face like weapons, questions hitting like debris in a crash.

"What does Tommy think about—" "Your ex-wife's allegations—" "Sources say you had a breakdown?—"

Cassidy materialized beside me, her small frame somehow commanding enough to part the sea of reporters. "No comments at this time. Mr. Blue is here to support his son's best interests. Now move."

Courtroom B smelled like furniture polish and fear. Not the kind of fear I got before a race - that was clean, sharp, almost friendly. This fear sat in my gut like lead, heavy and poisonous. My fingers wouldn't stop fidgeting with my tie.

"Stop touching it," Cassidy whispered, her hand landing on my restless fingers. "You've got this, Elliot. We're prepared."

Prepared. Right. Like you could ever be prepared to watch your ex-wife try to take your kid away. The wooden bench creaked under me as I shifted, my suit feeling too tight across my shoulders. Give me a firesuit and a track any day over this suffocating monkey suit and these polished wooden walls.

"They're saying I'm unstable." The words escaped before I could catch them. "That leaving racing proves?—"

"Proves you're putting your son first." Cassidy's voice carried steel. "Shows you're willing to sacrifice everything for Tommy. That's our narrative, remember?"

Narrative. Like my life had become just another story for people to twist. The coffee I'd forced down earlier churned in my stomach, bitter as the headlines they'd write no matter what happened today.

A commotion at the door drew my attention. More camera flashes, more shouted questions. Then I saw him - Tommy, my boy, slipping through the courtroom doors beside Vanessa. He wore the suit we'd bought together for his school pictures, the one he'd said made him look like a "tiny businessman." His hair stuck up in the back, just like mine always did, despite whatever product Vanessa had tried to tame it with.

Another camera flash caught him through the courtroom windows. My son flinched, and something in my chest cracked open. They'd followed him here, these vultures. Followed my eight-year-old kid just to get their money shot of the racing champion's custody battle.

"Dad!" His voice cut through everything – the fear, the cameras, the weight of judgment pressing down. He started toward me but Vanessa's hand landed on his shoulder, manicured nails digging in slightly.

"Tommy." She smiled for the cameras still peering through the windows. "Remember what we discussed about proper courtroom behavior.”

I watched my son's shoulders pull in, his smile dimming like someone had thrown a switch. That familiar mask slipped over his face – the perfect son, the proper child, everything Vanessa wanted him to be.

"Steady," Cassidy breathed beside me.

Vanessa, she looked exactly like she did at our wedding, all ice and elegance in her perfectly tailored cream suit. But her eyes - when had they gotten so cold? I remembered when those eyes used to light up at the sight of me, back when we were young and stupid and thought love could fix anything.

"All rise," the bailiff called out, and the room shuffled to its feet.

Vanessa's lawyer, Richard Sterling, looked like every asshole country club member who'd ever talked down to me beforeI made it big. His voice matched his appearance - smooth, cultured, and dripping with barely concealed contempt.

"Your Honor, we're here today because Mr. Blue has consistently demonstrated that racing takes precedence over parenting." Sterling's words hit like body blows. "His lifestyle is inherently unstable, his career choice dangerous, and his commitment to his son's well-being questionable at best."

My hands curled into fists under the table. Cassidy's warning touch on my arm didn't help much.

"Mr. Blue has missed seventeen of his son's school events this year alone," Sterling continued, consulting his notes like he was reading a fucking shopping list instead of dismantling my life. "He regularly travels at speeds exceeding 200 miles per hour, putting himself at risk of leaving his son fatherless. And most recently, he announced an indefinite career hiatus with no clear plan for financial stability."

The judge's pen scratched across her notepad. Each sound felt like nails on my future's coffin.

"Furthermore, Ms. Price has maintained a stable home environment, ensuring Tommy's attendance at one of the state's top-rated schools, managing his extracurricular activities, and providing the consistent presence every child needs."

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