Chapter 99: Okay Owen?

"No, Stark," Leona said, her voice dropping into a register of pure, unyielding steel. She tossed the crumbled piece of paper onto the coffee table. "I want to take her."

Owen paused, his brow furrowing as he looked up from the sofa. "Leona—"

"I want to take her," Leona repeated, her dark eyes flashing with absolute conviction as the plan rapidly formed in her mind. "I don't want to hide her away like we're scared. I want your mom and dad there. I want Claire and David and Tate. Hell, I want Ben, Sarah, and Maya there, too. I want that entire courtroom packed with our people."

She took a step closer to the sofa, the fire of a fiercely protective mother burning bright in her chest.

"I'm going in wearing olive green, and Olive is going in wearing an exact matching outfit," Leona declared, visualizing the united front they were going to present. "Hazel will be wearing olive green, and you are going to wear that one olive silk tie of yours. And you know what? I want everyone else wearing it, too. Every single person sitting behind us in those gallery pews. Let that judge—and those two pathetic excuses for grandparents—see exactly who Olive's family really is without us having to say a single word. Let them see exactly who she calls Momma and Dada."

At the sound of her favorite word, the heavy, warlike tension in the room fractured for a split second.

Olive, who was still sitting happily on the cushions, perked up. She patted Owen's solid thigh with her chubby little hand. "Dada!" she cheered, flashing a brilliant, completely oblivious smile up at the billionaire architect.

Owen’s fierce, protective scowl instantly melted. He pulled the vibrant toddler back against his side, pressing a deep, lingering kiss into her messy dark curls.

"You are absolutely right," Owen murmured to the little girl, his voice thick with a love that completely owned him. "And you have me completely wrapped around your little finger... just like your Momma and baby Hazel."

Hearing her sister's name, Olive leaned softly against Owen's chest, peering down at the sleeping newborn nestled safely in his other arm. The toddler's dark eyes softened. "Awee, baby," Olive whispered, her tiny voice impossibly sweet and careful not to wake her up.

Owen let out a soft breath. He looked up from his two beautiful daughters and stared across the coffee table at his wife. He saw the exact look in Leona's eyes—the unshakeable, terrifyingly beautiful resolve of a woman defending her family. He knew right then and there that there was absolutely no changing her mind. She wasn't going to let his lawyers quietly sweep this under the rug; she was going to march into that courthouse and scorch the earth herself.

"They want to mess with me and mine," Leona vowed softly, the promise hanging heavy and absolute in the quiet luxury of the penthouse.

A slow, dark, and devastatingly proud smirk spread across Owen's face.

"Then we go to war, Leo," Owen agreed smoothly, his storm-gray eyes flashing with anticipation. "I'll make the calls tonight. By next week, that courthouse won't know what hit it."

Leona reached down and scooped Olive right up off the velvet cushions, settling the energetic toddler effortlessly onto her hip.

"And you know what else?" Leona declared, her dark eyes sparkling with a familiar, dangerous kind of mischief. "We are calling Grandma tonight, and we are going on a massive shopping mission tomorrow to find the perfect outfits." She paused, offering her husband a sweet, overly innocent flutter of her eyelashes. "Okay, Owen?"

Owen sat perfectly still on the sofa. He carefully adjusted a sleeping Hazel in the crook of his arm, staring up at his wife in pure, unadulterated disbelief. A slow, incredibly amused smirk began to pull at the corners of his mouth.

"Leona," Owen said slowly, his voice thick with incredulity as he shook his head. "Did you just ask me for permission to spend money? Really? You literally have a Zenith black card with no limit in your purse."

Leona let out a bright, melodic laugh that instantly chased away the last lingering shadows of the court summons. She leaned forward, tapping him playfully on the chest.

"I just wanted to let you think you were in charge for a second, Stark," she teased, her smile completely taking over her face.

From her perch on Leona's hip, Olive didn't understand the joke, but she perfectly understood the joy. Catching her mother's infectious energy, the toddler threw her head back and let out a loud, musical belly laugh of her own, her dark curls bouncing around her face.

Owen looked up at the two of them, and the breath caught completely in his throat.

The teasing banter faded from his mind, replaced by an overwhelming, awe-striking realization. Looking at them right now, bathed in the soft evening light of the penthouse, there was absolutely no way that anyone on earth could look at them and not immediately assume Leona was her biological mother.

Leona and her brother Chad had looked so incredibly alike. And because of those strong, undeniable genetics, Olive was a perfect, miniature reflection of the woman holding her. They shared the exact same thick, dark eyelashes. They had the exact same vibrant, gap-toothed, breathtaking smile. But more than anything, it was their energy. They both possessed this rare, impossible light—a fierce, radiant warmth that completely illuminated whatever room they walked into.

Owen's heart swelled until it actually ached against his ribs.

He knew, with absolute, unbreakable certainty, that when Leona marched through those heavy oak courtroom doors in her olive green, holding this beautiful, matching little girl by the hand, it wouldn't even be a contest. No judge, no jury, and certainly no bitter, estranged grandparents would ever be able to deny the truth staring them right in the face.

They weren't just a legal arrangement. They were blood, they were soul, and they were a fiercely matched set.

"Buy out the whole store, Leo," Owen murmured softly, his storm-gray eyes completely filled with an awe-struck, unconditional love as he looked at his wife and his oldest daughter. "Whatever you need."