24. JAXON
JAXON
In Court
There’s too much going on in my head.
I pace.
Living room. Turn. Kitchen. Turn back again.
Part of it is the hearing, of course. But there’s something else, too.
The realization that I’m completely in love with my fake wife.
With Zara.
I crave her body, admire her spirit, love her soul.
There’s no way around it. I have to tell her.
She can’t have any doubt about how I feel.
Living room. Turn. Kitchen.
Only… now isn’t the time. Not with everything going on.
When she comes down the stairs a few moments later, relief hits me hard, so visceral it steals my breath. Just having her near does that to me.
She’s wearing a navy dress that somehow manages to look both professional and approachable—the exact image Rebecca recommends for the hearing. Warm but competent, she'd said. A woman who loves her family.
She isn't wrong.
Because I think that Zara might love us, too.
I know she loves Lily. But does she love me?
***
A few hours later, we climb the courthouse steps side by side.
The building looms, all marble columns and stone, designed to make you feel small.
I adjust my tie for the third time.
The courtroom itself is smaller than I expected. Wood paneling. Fluorescent lights that hum overhead.
Rachel sits at the opposite table with her lawyer, a severe woman in a charcoal suit who makes her career destroying fathers in custody battles.
My ex-wife doesn't look at me when we enter.
She keeps her eyes fixed on the documents in front of her, jaw set.
We were married for four years before everything fell apart. I loved her once, or at least I thought I did.
Looking at her now, I can’t remember what that felt like. All I see is a woman trying to take my daughter.
Rebecca guides us to our seats, her hand briefly touching my shoulder. "Remember what we discussed," she murmurs. "Short answers. Factual. Don't let them bait you."
I nod, though my stomach churns with everything I can't say.
The judge enters—a gray-haired woman with sharp eyes who’s probably seen every trick in the book.
She takes her seat, reviews some papers, then looks up at both tables.
"We're here regarding the matter of Halberg versus Halberg," she says. "Custody modification of the minor child, Lily Halberg. I understand there have been some new developments."
Rachel’s lawyer stands. “Your Honor, we have reason to believe that Mr. Halberg’s recent marriage is entered into specifically to influence these proceedings.
The timeline suggests an arrangement between my client’s ex-husband and his current wife, calling into question the authenticity of their relationship and the stability of the household. ”
My jaw tightens. Beside me, Zara’s hand finds my knee under the table, squeezing once.
“We’ve also submitted a request for a supplemental home evaluation,” the lawyer continues, “as well as a revised parenting plan that better reflects the reality of Mr. Halberg’s demanding career as head coach of the Metro Raptors.”
The judge turns to Rebecca. “Response?”
Rebecca rises without rushing, smoothing a hand over her blazer like she has all the time in the world.
“Your Honor,” she says calmly, “what opposing counsel is offering is speculation dressed up as concern.”
She steps forward, just enough to command the room without overplaying it. “Yes, the timeline of Mr. Halberg’s marriage is recent. That’s not in dispute. What is in dispute is the implication that this relationship is somehow fabricated or harmful to the child in question.”
I feel Zara’s fingers tighten slightly against my knee.
Rebecca continues, “We have submitted extensive documentation demonstrating Lily Halberg’s routine, stability, and overall well-being over the past several weeks and months.
School reports, caregiver logs, testimony from her teacher, and from Mrs. Henriksen, who has been a consistent presence in her daily life. ”
She gestures lightly toward the stack of files. “Every single piece points to the same conclusion: Lily is thriving.”
Rachel’s lawyer shifts, but Rebecca doesn’t give him room to interrupt.
“And while opposing counsel raises concerns about stability,” Rebecca adds, her tone still measured, “we would ask the court to consider the documented inconsistencies on Ms. Halberg’s side.
Missed appointments. Last-minute cancellations.
Periods of limited contact that have required others to step in to maintain continuity for the child. ”
A beat. Just long enough for that to land.
“As for Mr. Halberg’s career,” she continues, her tone sharpening just a fraction, “it isn’t new. As an NHL coach, his job has always been time-consuming. What’s changed is the support system around him.”
My gaze flicks to Zara.
She’s watching Rebecca, steady, composed on the outside—but I can feel the tension in the way her hand still rests against me.
Rebecca follows my line of sight for half a second before continuing.
“Mrs. Halberg has been an integral part of Lily’s daily life over many weeks. Consistently.” She pauses. “The court will find no evidence of instability here. Only structure, care, and a child who is deeply attached to both adults in that household.”
But Rachel’s lawyer keeps pushing.
“And yet,” she says during cross-examination, “isn’t it true that Ms. Winslow, excuse me, Mrs. Halberg, was originally hired as a nanny? That her first role in this household was as an employee?”
“She was hired to care for my daughter,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “The relationship developed naturally over time.”
“Naturally. Within weeks of her employment?”
“Sometimes people connect quickly.”
“Or sometimes people recognize an opportunity.” The lawyer’s smile is sharp as a blade.
“You are facing a custody battle, Mr. Halberg. Your ex-wife has raised concerns about the stability of a single-parent household with your demanding schedule. And conveniently, you find yourself married to your live-in nanny.”
“Objection,” Rebecca says. “Counsel is testifying.”
“Sustained. Keep it to questions.”
The next hour blurs into a series of accusations and rebuttals.
Rachel testifies about her concerns for Lily’s wellbeing. The hypocrisy of it is almost hard to sit through.
I testify about the years I spent as Lily’s primary caretaker while Rachel remains mostly absent from her life.
Documents are submitted, rejected, reconsidered.
Through it all, Zara sits beside me like an anchor.
When they call her to testify, she speaks clearly about her relationship with Lily, the bedtime routines, the homework help, the way Lily opens up about her fears and dreams.
She talks about falling in love with my daughter, and the words ring with the kind of truth you can’t fake.
Rachel’s lawyer tries to rattle her, but Zara holds her ground.
“Mrs. Halberg, do you deny that your marriage to the defendant is motivated by his custody concerns?”
Zara pauses, weighing her words. She won’t lie on the stand—I know that much.
“I won’t deny that the timing is… accelerated by circumstances. But that doesn’t mean what we have isn’t real. I’m part of this family now. And I believe this family is exactly what it appears to be—three people who found each other when they needed it most.”
The judge calls a recess. Rebecca pulls us into a side room, her expression cautiously optimistic.
“They’re pushing hard on the timeline of your relationship,” she says. “The judge has ordered home evaluations for both parties over the next few days.”
I frown slightly. “Both parties?”
Rebecca nods. “Yes. Yours and Rachel’s.”
Jaxon’s jaw tightens beside me. “So they’re digging deeper.”
“They are,” she confirms. “But this isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”
I glance at her. “How is that not a bad thing?”
Rebecca leans forward slightly, her tone calm but deliberate. “Because an evaluation doesn’t just look at your household—it looks at hers, too. Her routines. Her priorities. How present she actually is in Lily’s life.”
Something shifts in my chest.
Jaxon’s expression sharpens. “You think that could work in our favor.”
“I do,” Rebecca says. “From what we’ve already documented, your home shows structure, consistency, and emotional stability. Lily is clearly attached to both of you.” Her gaze flicks to me briefly before returning to Jaxon. “That matters.”
“And Rachel?” I ask quietly.
Rebecca’s expression tightens just slightly. “If she’s not prioritizing Lily the way she claims, an evaluator will see that. They’re trained to look beyond what’s said in court.”
Jaxon exhales slowly, processing.
“So we let them look,” he says.
“Yes,” Rebecca replies. “You don’t perform. You don’t overcorrect. You just live your life the way you have been.” A small pause. “Because from what I’ve seen, that’s your strongest argument.”
“But it’s all happening so fast.” I run a hand through my hair. “The playoffs start in ten days.”
“I know. The evaluator’s schedule may conflict with your games. We’ll need to work around it. But the sooner it happens, the sooner you’ll have a final ruling. Maybe even within a week.”
I feel the walls closing in. Every direction I turn, something else demands my attention, my daughter, my team, my marriage. The pressure builds behind my eyes like a coming storm.
Zara touches my arm. “We’ll figure it out.”
“The judge did note the genuine nature of your testimony,” Rebecca continues. “Both of you. She acknowledged the commitment you’ve demonstrated to Lily’s wellbeing. That’s a good sign.”
A good sign. Not a victory. Just another step in a war that feels endless.
We leave the courthouse under gray skies, the threat of rain hanging heavy in the air.
My phone accumulated fourteen messages during the hearing—three from Nate about practice changes, two from Simone about press inquiries, and the rest from various team personnel who need decisions I can't focus on making.
My phone buzzes with a new message. I expect another message from the team.
Instead, I find a notification that makes my blood run cold.
Evaluator appointment scheduled: Wednesday, 9:00 AM.
Wednesday. The same day as our critical road game against Chicago. The game that can determine our playoff position.
I show the screen to Zara. Her face goes pale.
"That's—"
"The Chicago game. I know."
The implications crash over me like a wave. Miss the evaluation, risk the custody case. Miss the game, risk my team's season. Risk my job.
Zara's hand finds mine, squeezing tight. "We'll figure it out," she says again.
But this time, even she doesn't sound sure.
I look back at the courthouse, its marble columns stretching toward a darkening sky.
Somewhere inside those walls, a judge holds my daughter's future in her hands.
And somewhere across the city, my team waits for a coach who can't seem to keep his life from falling apart.
One thing at a time, Zara says.
But when everything demands attention at once, which thing comes first?