Chapter 4 Target Located
Lila didn’t sleep.
She lay awake on the couch with the lights off, the city leaking in through the thin curtains, her phone face-down on the coffee table like something poisonous. Every sound—pipes shifting, a car door slamming, footsteps in the hall—felt amplified, her body braced for a danger she couldn’t see but could feel circling closer.
By morning, resolve had replaced fear.
If Adrian Blackmoor wanted a war fought on paper, then paper was where she would begin.
After dropping Elliot at school, Lila didn’t go home. She took the subway three stops farther than usual and walked into a low-rise building wedged between a nail salon and a tax office. The sign by the door read:
H. BENNETT — FAMILY LAW
Inside, the office smelled faintly of old books and coffee. A woman in her late fifties sat behind the front desk, glasses perched on her nose as she flipped through a stack of files.
“I need a lawyer,” Lila said.
The woman looked up, assessing her with a practiced eye. “Custody?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Hart. Lila Hart.”
The woman nodded once. “Have a seat.”
Twenty minutes later, Lila sat across from Helen Bennett, who had sharp eyes and an even sharper voice. Her office was cluttered in a way that suggested long battles fought and won—not with intimidation, but endurance.
Lila handed over Cassia Moore’s letter without preamble.
Helen read it carefully, her mouth tightening slightly.
“Well,” she said at last, “this is… ambitious.”
“He wants a DNA test,” Lila said.
Helen glanced up. “Is the child his?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have proof?”
“No.”
Helen leaned back in her chair. “Then he’ll get one.”
Lila’s chest tightened. “So that’s it?”
“No,” Helen said. “That’s the beginning.”
She folded her hands on the desk. “You didn’t list a father on the birth certificate.”
“No.”
“And he’s had no contact with the child.”
“No.”
“That helps you,” Helen continued. “But it doesn’t erase biology.”
Lila swallowed. “He’s dangerous.”
Helen studied her. “Explain.”
So Lila did. Not everything—but enough. The sudden appearance. The call. The envelope. The sense of being watched. She left out names she didn’t understand and threats she couldn’t prove.
When she finished, Helen was quiet for a long moment.
“Men like this,” Helen said finally, “don’t like being told no.”
“I know.”
“But courts care about stability,” Helen continued. “Routine. Emotional safety. The child’s best interest.”
“I’ve given him that,” Lila said fiercely.
“I believe you,” Helen said. “But belief isn’t evidence. We need documentation. Teachers. Doctors. Anyone who can testify that Elliot’s life is healthy and grounded.”
“And Adrian?”
Helen’s lips thinned. “Adrian Blackmoor is a problem.”
Lila let out a breath. “Thank you for not pretending otherwise.”
“He has resources,” Helen said. “Which means time, pressure, and patience. He won’t rush this. He’ll tighten it slowly.”
That matched Lila’s fear exactly.
“I’ll represent you,” Helen said. “But you need to understand something.”
Lila looked up.
“This isn’t about winning,” Helen continued. “It’s about surviving long enough to force a compromise.”
Lila nodded. “I can do that.”
Helen slid a business card across the desk. “Then start by documenting everything. Every call. Every message. Every time you feel watched.”
Lila tucked the card into her bag like a lifeline.
Adrian stood in the penthouse gym, sweat slicking his skin as he drove his fist into the heavy bag again and again. Each strike landed with brutal precision, the impact echoing through the room.
“Sir.”
He didn’t stop.
“Adrian.”
He hit the bag once more, then stepped back, breathing hard.
Marcus Vale stood near the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“What,” Adrian said flatly.
“She’s retained counsel,” Marcus said. “Family law. Local.”
Adrian wiped his hands with a towel. “Of course she has.”
“Not a firm that usually goes up against you.”
Adrian’s mouth curved faintly. “They don’t have to win. They only have to slow things down.”
Marcus watched him carefully. “Is that a problem?”
Adrian met his gaze. “No.”
“Then why do you look like it is?”
Adrian turned away, grabbing a bottle of water. “Because I didn’t want this to be adversarial.”
Marcus raised an eyebrow. “You sent lawyers.”
“That doesn’t make it a war,” Adrian said. “It makes it clean.”
Marcus hesitated. “There’s something else.”
Adrian drank slowly. “Go on.”
“The surveillance,” Marcus said. “She’s noticed.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened. “She shouldn’t have.”
“She’s not stupid,” Marcus replied. “And she’s scared.”
Adrian set the bottle down harder than necessary. “She should be.”
The words hung in the air, heavier than intended.
Marcus didn’t flinch. “That’s not what you mean.”
Adrian didn’t answer.
“Sir,” Marcus continued, more carefully now, “if the goal is access to the child, intimidation won’t help you.”
Adrian turned back to him sharply. “You think I don’t know that?”
“I think,” Marcus said evenly, “that you’re used to problems that can be contained with force. This one can’t.”
Adrian looked away, back toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. The city sprawled beneath him, vast and obedient.
“She took him from me,” he said quietly.
Marcus’s voice softened. “She didn’t know who you were.”
“That doesn’t change the outcome.”
“No,” Marcus agreed. “But it changes the intent.”
Adrian’s reflection stared back at him from the glass—controlled, immaculate, untouched. A man the world feared and admired.
A man who had a five-year-old son who didn’t know his name.
“Scale back the surveillance,” Adrian said suddenly.
Marcus blinked. “Sir?”
“Do it,” Adrian repeated. “Visible pressure will make her unpredictable.”
Marcus nodded. “Understood.”
As he turned to leave, Adrian added, “And Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“Find out who helped her disappear.”
Marcus’s expression hardened. “Already working on it.”
That afternoon, Lila felt it again.
The sensation crept up her spine as she left Elliot’s school—too sharp to be dismissed as imagination. She scanned the street casually, heart pounding beneath her ribs.
A black SUV idled across the road.
Her steps slowed.
The windows were tinted, the engine quiet. It could have been anyone. It could have been nothing.
She forced herself to keep walking, Elliot’s small hand warm in hers.
“Mom,” he said softly. “Why are you squeezing so hard?”
She loosened her grip immediately. “Sorry.”
They reached the corner before the SUV pulled away smoothly, merging into traffic.
Lila exhaled shakily.
Elliot looked up at her, eyes searching. “Are we in trouble?”
The question shattered something inside her.
She crouched down in front of him, ignoring the people passing by. “No,” she said firmly. “We’re safe.”
“Promise?”
She hesitated for half a second too long.
Then she nodded. “I promise.”
That night, after Elliot fell asleep, Lila opened a new document on her laptop.
Timeline, she titled it.
She began to type.
The café.
The news.
The call.
The envelope.
The SUV.
Each word steadied her, turning fear into something tangible. Something she could fight.
She didn’t know how this would end. Didn’t know how to protect her son from a man with endless reach and a hidden past.
But she knew one thing with absolute clarity.
She would not be erased again.
And if Adrian Blackmoor thought access was something he could simply take—
He was about to learn how much she was willing to lose to stop him.