Page 105 of Undisputed Player
“Shouldn't have,” I agreed. “But he's pushing for it anyway. Filed emergency petitions, claimed Estelle is an unfit guardian.”
Adrian whistled low as information populated his screens. “Well, well, well. Looks like daddy dearest is connected. Not the top guy, but definitely on the payroll.”
That caught my attention. “How deep?”
“Money-man,” Adrian replied, still typing. “Wouldn't have found it if I wasn't, you know, me.” He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.
Connor finally looked up from his iPad, focusing more on the discussion. “Cartel connections would explain how he's pushing the custody case with no standing. Judges can be bought.”
I nodded, cold fury settling in my gut. "Estelle's been fighting this alone. Teacher's salary against cartel money."
"Not anymore," Adrian corrected, glancing up with rare seriousness. "So what's the play? Financial warfare? I could drain his accounts, set off IRS flags...”
“Eventually,” I admitted. “But not yet. I need to understand what we're dealing with first.”
Adrian rolled his eyes. "You guys are so boring. What about Daddy Easton? One phone call and this whole problem disappears."
It was a good idea.
My father and I got along well, too well, according to Jovie. Wewere cut from the same cloth, shared the same appetites, the same drive. He'd probably have Damon's entire operation dismantled within forty-eight hours. But that wasn't the point.
“Dad’s entertaining himself in the Caribbean,” I murmured, checking my watch. “But he'd help if I asked.”
"Of course he would," Connor said quietly, his dark eyes understanding. "He always does."
There was weight in those words, history that went back years. Wade Easton had never been just a father to me—he'd been a savior to all of us in different ways. Connor, pulled from street fighting, all sharp edges and mistrust until Dad. Adrian, who was filled with rage and abandonment issues that Dad had patiently worked through.
“Ah, the famous Easton island parties,” Adrian sighed dramatically. “When will I get an invitation?”
“When you stop stealing his artwork,” I shot back.
“That was ONE TIME I borrowed his Picasso.”
"Stole," Connor corrected.
"Borrowed indefinitely."
I smirked despite myself. My father's reputation with women was legendary, especially now in his mid-forties. He wore it well, too, the same golden looks that had blessed our family for generations, just with silver at the temples now.
"Look," I said, running a hand through my hair. "Dad's done enough. He pulled us all out of hell and gave us everything. He's now getting to relax.”
Adrian's expression sobered. "Shit. I didn't think about that."
"He'd burn every bridge he built if I asked him to," I continued. "But I won't unless I have to. They are my family now. My responsibility."
"Our responsibility," Connor corrected firmly.
"Damn right," Adrian added, bouncing in his chair. "We're brothers. That's what we do."
Brothers. Not by blood for two of them, but by choice. By the manwho'd seen three broken kids and decided to fix them, no matter the cost.
“Let's keep him as backup," I said finally. "I want to handle this my way first. Dad's given us enough. Time we gave something back."
Connor nodded approvingly. "He'd be proud."
"He'd also probably lecture us about being too stubborn," Adrian added with a grin.
"Wonder where we got that from," I said dryly.
