Chapter 120 Custody

Chapter 120 Custody
Aunt Grace’s POV
RAIN TAPPED softly against the tall glass windows of the lawyer’s private office.
I sat comfortably in the leather armchair, smoothing the front of my tailored skirt while Mr. Santos adjusted his glasses and reviewed the documents spread across his polished mahogany desk.
At the top of the stack was a photograph from yesterday’s school incident.
Aleli was curled against the cold metal lockers, her eyes wide with terror, her hands clutching her head while a crowd of students surrounded her with their phones raised.
Beside the photograph were printed articles from local digital tabloids detailing her public breakdown and the hotel scandal involving Kristoff Ricafort.
“The public reaction has been swift, Mrs. Grace,” Mr. Santos said, his voice measured. “The video is quite damaging. Anyone watching it without context could conclude that the girl is experiencing a serious emotional or psychological crisis.”
I lowered my gaze and sighed sympathetically.
“It breaks my heart to see her like this,” I said, dabbing the corner of my eye with a handkerchief. “She has always been a delicate child, Mr. Santos. After everything that happened to her family, the trauma must have been too much. I tried giving her independence because I thought it would help her heal.”
I paused.
“But clearly, she cannot take care of herself.”
“The school board is already discussing a temporary suspension,” he said. “Given the public attention and the involvement of the Ricafort family, they want to limit their liability. If you intend to intervene, now would be the ideal time.”
“I am not simply intervening.”
I leaned forward and placed both hands on the desk.
“I want an emergency petition filed immediately to revoke her independent status and place her back under my legal guardianship.”
Mr. Santos looked at me over the rim of his glasses. “On what grounds?”
“Mental instability.”
I answered without hesitation.
“The panic attacks, memory problems, emotional outbursts. Everything is documented now. She is clearly incapable of making sound decisions for herself.”
I let my expression soften.
“She needs supervision. She needs someone responsible to control her environment.”
“Understood.” Mr. Santos began making notes. “If we present the video alongside medical statements regarding her traumatic history, a judge may grant temporary custody without much difficulty.”
“Temporary?”
I smiled gently. “Make it permanent.”
He stopped writing.
“I don't want her making legal decisions for herself again,” I continued. “Not while she is in this condition.”
My phone buzzed on the armrest.
I picked it up and read the message from a private number.
The reporters posted the full video. The school board meets in an hour. Everyone thinks she belongs in an institution. You have the green light.
I deleted the message immediately.
Debbie had been remarkably useful.
The girl believed she was acting out of jealousy, trying to destroy a rival and earn her mother’s approval. She had no idea her petty games were serving something much larger.
She thought she was ruining Aleli’s social life.
Instead, she had handed me the key to Aleli’s entire existence.
Let the children play their little games.
In the end, adults collected the prize.
Thirty minutes later, I left the lawyer’s office and stepped into the quiet hallway. As I waited for the elevator, I watched my reflection in the polished metal doors.
People believed I was the cruel aunt who had abandoned her niece.
They thought I had pushed Aleli away because I was cold or resentful.
They understood nothing.
I had allowed Aleli to wander just far enough to make her own mistakes. I had let her search for missing court files, question her past, and place her trust in Kristoff and Malcolm.
I had let her believe she was becoming independent.
That was the point.
The harder she fell, the easier she would be to control.
Now she had been publicly humiliated, branded unstable, and exposed in front of the entire school.
No court would easily believe her if she started talking about Uncle Jerry.
If she mentioned deleted juvenile records, people would assume she was confused.
If she described the memories she couldn't fully explain, they would call them hallucinations.
By labeling her unstable, I could silence her without ever having to threaten her.
The elevator doors opened.
I stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground floor.
My sedan was waiting outside. The driver opened the rear door, and I slipped inside as the car joined the afternoon traffic.
Twenty minutes later, we arrived at my estate.
The iron gates opened automatically, revealing the long driveway leading to the house. High stone walls surrounded the property, while thick trees blocked it from the road.
Exactly what Aleli needed.
Or, more accurately, exactly what I needed.
I stepped into the foyer, where one of the maids immediately approached.
“She is upstairs, ma’am,” the woman said respectfully. “She hasn't touched her lunch and refuses to speak.”
“That is fine,” I replied, handing her my coat. “She is simply exhausted.”
I climbed the marble staircase and followed the long hallway until I reached the heavy wooden door at the end.
I turned the brass handle and stepped inside.
The curtains were drawn, leaving the room dim despite the afternoon.
Aleli sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing her crumpled school uniform. Her knees were pulled against her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and the blanket from the guidance office remained wrapped around her shoulders.
She looked painfully small.
When the door creaked shut behind me, she flinched.
“Aleli,” I said softly.
She didn't look up.
“Please. I just want to rest.”
I walked to the bed and sat beside her.
“I know, my dear.” I gently stroked her messy hair. “I know how difficult everything has been. The school, the rumors, those awful reporters. It is far too much for a sick girl to handle alone.”
Her shoulders shook.
“I am not sick, Aunt Grace,” she whispered. “I just couldn't breathe. Debbie kept talking about blood and police officers.”
“Hush.”
I placed my hand over hers.
“You don't need to explain anything. The doctor will come tomorrow. He can prescribe something to help you sleep and calm your mind.”
Her fingers tightened around mine.
“You don't have to worry about school anymore,” I continued. “You don't have to worry about your friends, Kristoff, or those missing files.”
Aleli finally looked at me.
“What do you mean?”
I gave her the warmest smile I could manage.
“I spoke with our lawyer today. The papers are already being prepared.”
Her expression changed.
“You're coming home for good, Aleli.”
She stared at me.
“No more living on your own. No more trying to handle everything yourself.”
My fingers tightened slightly around hers.
“From now on, I will make your decisions for you.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks. She didn't pull her hand away. She didn't have the strength.
I leaned down and kissed the top of her head.
People would think I was bringing her home out of love.
They would call it family duty.
They might even praise me for protecting a troubled young girl when everyone else had abandoned her.
How convenient.
I didn't want to heal Aleli. I wanted to control her. I released her hand and stood.
At the doorway, I looked back.
She was still sitting on the bed, trembling beneath the blanket, completely unaware of what had just been taken from her.
I stepped into the hallway and quietly closed the door.
Then I turned the key.
The lock clicked firmly into place.
I smiled.
She belongs with me.