Chapter 4 The War for the Empire

# Chapter 4 – The War for the Empire

Three weeks after the boardroom disaster, I sat in my new apartment overlooking the Charles River, watching as my announcement video surpassed one million views. The caption was simple: "New Beginnings." In it, I had revealed my pregnancy while addressing the scandal that had consumed my life.

My phone rang—Daniel, again. His fifth call today. I let it go to voicemail as I had with the previous four. Since moving out, I'd maintained radio silence except through our lawyers. The tabloids speculated wildly about reconciliation possibilities, but I knew better. Some bridges, once burned, leave only ashes.

A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts. My temporary assistant, Mia, poked her head in.

"Your new attorney is here, Ms. Rhodes."

"It's Ms. Carter again," I corrected gently. I'd reverted to my maiden name the day after filing for divorce. "And please send him in."

I'd fired my previous lawyer when I discovered he'd been feeding information to Cynthia. Finding independent legal representation had proven challenging—the Rhodes influence extended throughout Boston's elite circles.

The man who entered wasn't what I expected. Instead of another gray-suited corporate type, he wore dark jeans, a navy blazer, and had the confident stride of someone comfortable in his skin. Mid-thirties, with intelligent eyes that missed nothing.

"Ethan Hale," he introduced himself, extending his hand. "Though you might know me better as E.H. from 'The Inside Track.'"

I nearly dropped my water glass. "The gossip columnist? You're a lawyer?"

His smile was disarming. "Columbia Law, class of 2010. I practiced for five years before journalism lured me away. But I've kept my license current."

"And why would a successful journalist want to represent me?" I asked, suspicion evident in my tone.

"Because you're the most interesting story in Boston right now." He settled into the chair across from me. "And because I've spent years watching the Rhodes family crush people who get in their way. It's about time someone pushed back."

I studied him carefully. "You have history with them."

"Let's just say Cynthia Rhodes and I have unfinished business." His expression turned serious. "But more importantly, I know things about the Rhodes empire that most people don't—including how they handle inconvenient pregnancies."

My hand instinctively moved to my still-flat stomach. "What do you mean?"

"Three years ago, another Rhodes executive's girlfriend got pregnant. Cynthia arranged for her to receive a very generous settlement package—contingent on termination and permanent relocation."

A chill ran through me. "You think she'd try that with me?"

"I think Cynthia Rhodes views your baby as both a threat and an opportunity." He leaned forward. "That's why she's revised her will. She wants control of your child to secure the Rhodes legacy, but she wants you out of the picture."

"How do you know about her will?"

His smile was enigmatic. "I told you—I know things."

For the first time in weeks, I felt something like hope. Perhaps Ethan Hale was exactly what I needed—someone who knew the battlefield as well as I did.

"Here's my strategy," I said, sliding a folder across the table. "I want to file for emergency inheritance protection for my unborn child. Given the company's current valuation, those shares would be worth nearly half a billion dollars."

Ethan whistled low. "Ambitious. Cynthia will fight this with everything she has."

"I'm counting on it." I smiled grimly. "The more aggressively she fights, the more desperate she appears."

"She'll claim you orchestrated this pregnancy to claim Rhodes assets."

"Let her. DNA tests will confirm it's Daniel's child, and the timing works in my favor. We were still living together when I conceived."

Ethan reviewed my notes, nodding occasionally. "This is good, but you're missing leverage. Cynthia will try to paint you as emotionally unstable—the scorned wife seeking revenge. She'll use your livestream incident as evidence."

"She wouldn't dare question my mental health," I said, though uncertainty crept into my voice.

"She absolutely would. I've already heard whispers about your 'troubling history of depression.'"

I froze. My college struggles with depression had been private—known only to my immediate family and Daniel.

"That's confidential medical information."

"Privacy means nothing to Cynthia when billions are at stake." Ethan closed my folder. "We need something stronger—something that makes her back off entirely."

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a news alert: *RHODES MEDIA GROUP SEEKS PSYCHIATRIC EVALUATION OF FORMER INFLUENCER IN CUSTODY DISPUTE*

"But there is no custody dispute yet," I whispered, showing Ethan the screen. "I'm still pregnant."

"They're getting ahead of the narrative." His jaw tightened. "Filing preemptively to establish your 'pattern of instability' before the baby arrives."

Anger surged through me—hot, clarifying anger that burned away my remaining hesitation.

"I need to make a call," I said, reaching for my phone.

Twenty minutes later, I had my answer. My source inside Rhodes Media confirmed that Cynthia had instructed her legal team to build a case for grandparental custody based on my "mental unfitness." They were preparing to use the livestream incident as evidence that I had deliberately orchestrated a public scandal for financial gain—proof of my "unstable and manipulative tendencies."

"She won't stop," I told Ethan when I hung up. "She'll take my baby and discard me like yesterday's news."

"Then we stop playing defense." Ethan's expression was determined. "You have something they want. It's time to use it."

Two days later, we met with Daniel and his attorneys in a neutral conference room downtown. I hadn't seen him since leaving the Rhodes building three weeks earlier. He looked thinner, with shadows under his eyes that matched my own.

When our eyes met, something unspoken passed between us—not love, exactly, but recognition. We had both been pawns in Cynthia's game.

"Before we begin," Ethan announced, "my client would like to address Mr. Rhodes privately."

Daniel's lawyers exchanged glances. "We advise against—"

"It's fine," Daniel interrupted. "Five minutes."

When the others had filed out, leaving us alone, Daniel spoke first.

"You look well."

"I'm pregnant, not ill," I replied, then immediately regretted my sharpness. "But thank you."

He nodded toward my stomach. "When?"

"January. A winter baby."

An awkward silence stretched between us, filled with all the words we couldn't say.

"Why did you request this meeting?" he finally asked.

"Your mother is trying to take our child."

His brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

I slid the legal documents across the table. "She's building a case for grandparental custody, claiming I'm mentally unfit. She's using my college depression diagnosis and the livestream incident as evidence."

Daniel scanned the papers, his expression darkening. "This isn't possible. She wouldn't—"

"She already has." I leaned forward. "Daniel, whatever happened between us, this is your child too. Are you really going to let her control another generation?"

He pushed the papers away, standing abruptly. "What do you want from me, Lillian?"

"I want you to choose—for once in your life—something other than blind loyalty to your mother."

"You don't understand the pressure—"

"I understand perfectly," I cut him off. "I was married to you for three years. I watched you surrender your autonomy piece by piece. But this is different. This is our child's future."

His jaw clenched as he paced the small room. "What are you proposing?"

"Stand with me against her. Publicly. Support my claim to the shares she's designated for our child."

"You're asking me to betray my family."

"I'm asking you to protect your family—the one you created with me." I placed my hand on my stomach. "This baby deserves better than being another pawn in Cynthia's power games."

Daniel stared at me for a long moment, conflict evident in his eyes.

"I need to think," he finally said.

"We don't have time for thinking. The court date is set for next week."

Before he could respond, the door opened. Cynthia swept in, ignoring the protests of our lawyers who followed.

"This meeting is over," she announced. "Daniel, come with me."

To my surprise, Daniel didn't move. "Mother, what is this?" He held up the custody documents.

Cynthia's gaze flicked briefly to the papers before returning to his face. "A necessary precaution. Lillian is clearly unstable—"

"Stop." His voice was quiet but firm. "Just stop."

An uncomfortable silence fell. I'd never heard Daniel speak to his mother that way.

"We'll discuss this later," Cynthia said coldly.

"No, we'll discuss it now." Daniel turned to me. "Lillian, would you give us a moment?"

I nodded, gathering my things. At the door, I paused. "The mediation is scheduled for Tuesday. I hope you'll make the right choice."

Outside, Ethan was waiting. "How did it go?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. "But I think, for the first time, Daniel might be seeing his mother clearly."

"Let's hope so," Ethan replied. "Because we're going to need something dramatic for Tuesday."

I smiled, thinking of the flash drive in my purse—containing security footage from Cynthia's lake house, showing her and Alaric discussing their plan to manipulate Daniel.

"Don't worry," I assured him. "I've got something that will bring the house down."