Chapter Thirty-Eight-Remy
The second Andrea sits back down, I want to stand and rip Julio fucking Castillo apart with my bare hands.
The smug prick leans over to whisper to his lawyer, his lips curling into a smile that makes my blood pressure spike.
Like this is a game to him.
Like Callie is a toy he left on the curb and suddenly remembered he wants back.
I force myself to sit still, to breathe through the rage, because if I move now, I’ll kill him before the gavel falls.
His lawyer rises, a slick-haired parasite in a too-expensive suit.
“Your Honor, my client acknowledges his troubled past but submits to this court that he has completed rehabilitation. He is employed, sober, and ready to build a life for his daughter. He believes she deserves the chance to know her biological father.”
Julio sits there, nodding like he’s some saint.
The same man who left Callie without so much as diapers or food.
The same man who put a needle in his arm instead of showing up for her first birthday.
“Mr. Castillo has already begun attending parenting classes and has been volunteering at a local community center,” the lawyer continues, voice oozing like oil. “He’s ready, Your Honor. He just needs a chance.”
Andrea’s nails bite into my hand under the table.
Her fear bleeds into me, and I want to fucking destroy it.
The judge raises a brow.
“Well, Mr. Castillo, the law recognizes biological ties. However, the court also values stability and best interests of the child. We will set a preliminary hearing in sixty days to review both parties’ claims. Until then, visitation rights may be considered.”
Andrea’s sharp inhale is a knife in my gut.
Julio smirks again. Like he’s already won.
That’s when it hits me.
This fucker doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.
I lean back, keeping my face blank for the judge, but inside I’m a storm.
Julio thinks this is about paperwork and court dates. He thinks a few rehab certificates and staged volunteer photos are enough to erase years of abandonment.
But the thing is, I don’t buy it. I don’t think this piece of shit wants Callie. Not really. There’s something else in his gaze.
It’s dark and greedy. I’m sure he thinks I can’t tell, but I see it. The discontent. The malice he thinks he hides so well.
Julio doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know me.
When we walk out of this courthouse, he’ll still be grinning.
But soon? That smile will fade.
Because I’ll burn every resource, call in every favor, and unleash every weapon in my arsenal to make sure Callie stays where she belongs—safe with me and Andrea.
Julio wants a war?
Good.
I’ve fought worse and won.
And this time, I’ve got everything to lose. Which means I’ll fight like a man with nothing left to fear.
After court, Andrea is quiet beside me in the car, her fingers knotted together in her lap like she’s trying to hold herself together.
We swing by her parents’ estate to pick up Callie.
The second we step into the house, I’m beckoned into Andres’ office.
“Remy.”
That single word carries the weight of a thousand unspoken things.
I glance at Andrea, who’s busy scooping Callie into her arms, and nod before following her father down the long hall.
When I step inside, it’s like walking into a lion’s den.
Andres is behind his massive desk.
Adrik Volkov sits in one of the large side chairs.
Nico Fury is leaning against a wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
Angel Fury with a cigar between his fingers, though it’s not lit.
Luc Batiste perched on the arm of a chair like a coiled viper.
Josef Aziz, too, seated with the same cool, lethal calm I’ve seen in the office.
Connor Callahan, Liam O’Doyle, Sammy Ramirez, and Nico Fury Jr., are all there too.
And my lawyer—already here.
That one’s a surprise.
“I see we have a problem to take care of,” Andres says.
“I do.”
“Nah, cuz. We do,” Junior corrects me with a wicked grin.
Andres nods. His voice is even, but the steel underneath it’s impossible to miss, “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
So I do.
I lay out everything.
Callie’s birth. Renee’s death. Julio’s side the way he spewed in court.
The lies, the fake rehab certificates, the playacting.
My lawyer adds his piece about what to expect from the upcoming hearings, the potential for temporary visitation, and how the judge is giving Julio the benefit of the doubt—at least for now.
“He’s already filed for visitation on Christmas Day,” My lawyer adds, and I feel my protective instincts going insane.
The thought of that fucker being allowed anywhere near Callie? Unthinkable.
He goes on about the legalities and counter arguments, until finally, my lawyer and theirs step out.
Then, the tone in the room shifts.
Now it’s just family.
And that means the gloves come off.
“Julio Castillo has ties to a South American drug cartel,” Nico Fury says flatly. “They’re renowned for the brutal deaths of their enemies and any cops who go after them.”
Angel exhales a plume of smoke he never bothers to light.
“We’ve kept their products out of Jersey, but it’s a growing problem.”
“See,” Luc Batiste adds, the steel in his voice sharpening the words like blades, “these motherfuckers don’t care that their poison is killing people. They just want customers. Bodies are cheap to them. Julio thinks he has clout, but he’s sloppy. And he makes too much noise.”
“He won’t be missed then,” Adrik points out.
“In fact, I’d say his sudden disappearance might be appreciated,” Connor adds.
Every word they say is like another nail hammered into Julio’s coffin.
I sit there, silent, listening.
Absorbing.
Because this isn’t just about a custody hearing anymore.
This is about a battle Julio has no idea he started.
He thinks he’s clever, trying to play daddy now, trying to crawl back into relevance by waving his blood ties around—but I’m no fucking fool.
He’s going to have an ask. Money is what I’m guessing. And I’d gladly give him everything I have to walk away. To leave my family alone.
But guys like that don’t know how to quit while they’re ahead. So no, there won’t be any payoff for Julio.
Because when you come at me, you’re not just coming at me.
You’re coming at the entire Volkov Clan. The Vipers. The Callahans. The O’Doyles.
The whole damn hornet’s nest.
And Julio Castillo?
He just kicked it wide open.
I flex my fists in my lap, jaw tight, and make myself a silent promise.
He has no idea what storm he just unleashed.
But he’s about to find out.