It was the petition for legal guardianship.

Once signed, the children would no longer be wards of the state or targets for greedy relatives.

They would be mine to protect, permanently.

I climbed back into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“Where to, boss?” Marco asked through the open window.

“The estate,” I said. “Let’s get them some sleep.”

We drove out of the federal compound, leaving the flashing lights behind us.

The highway was dark, the fog clinging to the tall pines that lined the road.

For the first time in weeks, the silence in the car did not feel heavy.

It felt like a beginning.

An hour later, we reached the gates of my estate.

The heavy iron gates swung open automatically, and we wound up the long, gravel driveway.

The house was dark, save for the porch lights reflecting off the wet stone.

I parked the car and killed the engine.

“I’ll carry Owen,” Marco said, opening the rear door.

Owen did not protest; he let Marco lift him, his head dropping onto Marco’s shoulder, still clutching his bear.