Chapter 95: Oh, Baby

But the bright, musical sound of their laughter was abruptly cut short by a harsh burst of static from the high-tech security intercom mounted next to the private elevator.

Owen's smile faded. He set his coffee mug down and walked over to the panel, pressing the button. "Yes," he called out, his voice slipping effortlessly back into his authoritative CEO tone.

"Mr. Stark, my apologies for the early interruption," the polished voice of the Zenith's head concierge crackled through. "Legal papers were just delivered to the front desk for you, sir. Shall we send them up?"

Owen frowned, his brow furrowing. Legal matters were handled at the office, not the penthouse. He glanced back at Leona, who suddenly looked tense.

"That will be fine, thank you," Owen replied.

A minute later, the private elevator chimed. The silver doors slid open to reveal a thick manila envelope resting on a silver tray held by a staff member. Owen took the envelope with a curt nod, and the doors closed again.

He ripped the top open as he walked back toward the kitchen, pulling out the thick stack of formally bound documents. As his eyes rapidly scanned the dense black text on the first page, all the warmth drained from his face. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle feathered in his cheek, and his eyes darkened into a furious, storm-cloud gray.

"Owen?" Leona asked, her heart suddenly hammering against her ribs. "Stark, what is it? What's wrong?"

Owen looked up. "It's not over," he said, his voice dropping into a low, lethal growl. He tossed the heavy stack of papers onto the marble island.

Leona stepped forward, her breath catching as she read the capitalized names at the top of the petition. Tiffany had signed her rights away, but these documents weren't from Tiffany. They were from Tiffany's parents. They were officially suing for grandparents' rights and visitation of Olive.

"Why now?" Leona cried, the sheer, devastating unfairness of it breaking her voice. Tears immediately sprang to her eyes. "We've had her almost a year. Oh, my baby... Owen, what are we going to do?"

Owen didn't flinch. He stepped closer, wrapping a strong, grounding arm securely around Leona's waist.

"I'm calling Dad at work right now," Owen stated, his voice a steady, unbreakable anchor. "I'll have him come by with Vance. I know Vance is the head of my father's firm and mostly handles the architecture side of things, but he can look through these papers. I've got this, Pepper. They are not taking our daughter."

Before Leona could reply, a faint, high-pitched wail drifted down the hallway from the master bedroom. Hazel was awake.

In her highchair, Olive gasped, her dark eyes going wide. "My baby!"

The heavy, terrifying tension in the kitchen broke just a fraction. Owen’s jaw unclenched, and a deeply fond, protective smile cracked through his fierce expression.

"Yes, sweet pea," Owen murmured gently. He unbuckled the straps and scooped the toddler up.

Instead of following Leona to the bedroom, Owen walked Olive right up to the massive, floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Olive loved standing and listening to Owen talk about the buildings. To him, she had the exact same passion for architecture that he did. He could be explaining the load-bearing walls of a skyscraper, and she could be babbling about a bird that just flew by, but Owen would swear on his life they were having a deep discussion about structural engineering.

Leona slipped out of the tense atmosphere of the kitchen and stepped into the quiet, insulated sanctuary of the master bedroom. She walked over to the bassinet, gently scooping the fussy infant up into her arms, and settled comfortably onto the edge of the massive, unmade bed.

She let Hazel feed in the peaceful quiet of the room, taking deep, steadying breaths to calm her own racing heart. She focused entirely on the rhythmic, soothing sounds of her newborn, pushing the terrifying reality of the legal papers out of her mind for just a few precious minutes. Once Hazel was finally satisfied and milk-drunk, Leona gently burped her, savoring that intoxicating, sweet baby scent, and cradled the sleeping infant securely against her chest.

Taking one last, fortifying breath, Leona padded barefoot back down the hallway toward the living room.

As she stepped through the archway, she paused, her heart physically aching with love at the sight before her.

Owen was still standing right by the massive, floor-to-ceiling glass windows, effortlessly balancing Olive on his hip. He was pointing out toward the sprawling Manhattan skyline, his voice dropping into that rich, deeply passionate cadence he reserved specifically for architecture. He was meticulously describing the complex steel framework and load-bearing construction of a new high-rise being built a few blocks over.

Olive was utterly captivated. She had her chubby little hands and her soft cheek pressed completely flat against the cool glass, leaving tiny, smudged handprints on the pristine window. She was nodding along with immense toddler seriousness, babbling softly in agreement, acting as though she perfectly understood every single complex structural engineering concept her father was explaining to her.

Just as Leona stepped fully into the sunlit room, Hazel shifted in her arms and let out a tiny, high-pitched mewl.

Even over Owen's deep voice, Olive's sharp little ears caught the sound instantly. The toddler twisted around in her father's arms, her dark curls bouncing. When she saw Leona walking toward them with the baby, her face completely lit up with pure, uncontainable joy.

"MOMMA!" Olive squealed at the absolute top of her bright, cheerful toddler lungs.

The sudden, booming noise shattered the quiet of the room. Down in Leona's arms, the loud squeal startled Hazel right out of her peaceful doze. The newborn jerked slightly, her tiny face scrunching up as she let out a short, unhappy cry of protest.

Olive froze. Realizing exactly what she had just done, the toddler dramatically slapped her chubby little hand right over her own mouth. Her dark eyes went incredibly wide, filled with immediate, intense remorse for waking up her new sister.

She leaned forward against Owen's chest, her hand still tightly covering her lips, and looked down at the pink-swaddled newborn.

"Oh, baby," Olive whispered into the quiet room, her voice barely a breath, completely heartbroken that she had made Hazel cry.

Owen's chest rumbled with a suppressed, terribly fond chuckle. He gently rubbed Olive's back, pressing a soft kiss to her dark hair to reassure her, while he shared a deeply melting, loving look with Leona. For just a fleeting second, in the warm sunlight of their living room, the terrifying threat of the lawsuit sitting on the kitchen counter completely ceased to exist.