Chapter 39 CHAPTER 39

Chapter 39 CHAPTER 39
Vivienne’s POV
There was something formal in the way he said it. Polite. Almost distant.

It threw me off for a second because I'd seen Rafael with Emma plenty of times—teasing her, being protective, acting like a typical older brother. But right now, standing in front of Mr. and Mrs. Steele, he seemed different. More reserved.

"Rafael," Mr. Steele said, standing up. "Mathias."

"Sir," Rafael replied with a slight nod. "Ma'am."

Mathias echoed the greeting, his usual easygoing demeanor also replaced by something more formal. "Mr. and Mrs. Steele."

It was weird. Really weird.

Why were they being so formal? These were Emma's parents. Rafael lived here. Why did it feel like he was addressing his boss or something?

And then it hit me.

Emma's words from a few days ago flooded back. Rafael wasn't actually her brother. Her parents were Keepers—people who worked with Rafael's werewolf pack. They provided shelter and support for wolves who crossed into the human world. Emma had explained it all when she told me about the supernatural stuff.

Rafael didn't live here because he was family. He lived here because it was part of some arrangement between his pack and the Steeles.

That's why the formality. That's why the careful politeness.

They weren't his parents. They were his Keepers.

"Sit down, both of you," Mrs. Steele said warmly, gesturing to the empty chairs. "You both look exhausted."

"We're fine," Rafael said, but he pulled out a chair anyway. Mathias did the same, immediately reaching for the food.

"How was practice?" Mr. Steele asked, settling back into his own seat.

"Good," Rafael replied. "Coach is pushing us hard for the tournament next month."

"That's good to hear." Mr. Steele's expression shifted slightly, becoming more serious. "And how is your father? The pack?"

Rafael's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "He's well. The pack is stable."

"And the... situation?" Mr. Steele asked carefully, his eyes holding Rafael's. "Any progress?"

My stomach twisted. What situation?

Rafael's gaze flickered to me for just a second before returning to Mr. Steele. "We're still working on a solution."

The way he said it—the weight in those words—made my chest feel tight.

Mr. Steele nodded slowly, understanding something I clearly didn't. "I see. Well, if there's anything we can do to help—"

"I appreciate that," Rafael cut in smoothly. "But we're handling it."

There was a tension in the air now. Something unspoken passing between Rafael and Mr. Steele.

And Rafael was looking at me again. Just for a moment, but it was enough to make my breath catch.

His eyes were intense—gold and focused—and there was something in them I couldn't quite read. Worry, maybe. Or determination. Or something else entirely.

I felt frozen under that gaze, unable to look away.

Then he broke eye contact, reaching for the food on the table. Mathias was already piling chicken and vegetables onto his plate like he hadn't eaten in days.

"So how was the trip?" Rafael asked, his tone lighter now. Casual. Like the heavy conversation from seconds ago hadn't happened.

Mrs. Steele seemed to relax a little. "Productive. Exhausting, but productive. We finalized the contract with the Seattle group."

"That's good," Rafael said, serving himself some salad. "They've been dragging their feet for months."

"Tell me about it," Mr. Steele muttered, cutting into his chicken. "But it's done now. One less headache."

They fell into easy conversation—talking about business deals I didn't understand, people I didn't know. But it felt normal. Comfortable.

I picked at my food, my appetite still basically nonexistent despite how good everything smelled.

"So," Rafael said after a few minutes, glancing between his Keepers and Emma. "What were you all discussing when we walked in? Looked pretty serious."

Emma straightened in her chair. "I was trying to convince Mom and Dad to let Vivienne stay. Like, officially. Not just for a few days."

Rafael's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "And?"

"And we were just getting to that part," Mr. Steele said. He set down his utensils, giving Rafael his full attention. "Emma brought up the possibility of fostering Vivienne. Maybe eventually adopting her."

My heart stopped.

Adopting?

Emma hadn't said anything about adoption. She'd just said staying here. Living here.

But adoption meant... that meant family. Real family.

"I think we should do it," Emma said firmly, looking at her parents. "Vivienne doesn't have anyone else. And she's been through hell. She deserves a real home. A real family."

"Emma's right," Rafael said, his voice steady. "Vivienne needs stability. Permanence. This house can give her that."

Mrs. Steele looked at me with soft eyes. "Vivienne, honey, how do you feel about this? About the possibility of staying here long-term?"

I couldn't speak. My throat was too tight.

"I—" I swallowed hard. "I don't want to impose. I don't want to—"

"You're not imposing," Emma cut in. "Stop saying that."

"But I—"

"Vivienne," Mr. Steele said gently. "Do you want to stay here? Honest answer."

Did I?

Yes. God, yes.

The idea of having a real home again, of not being alone, of being part of a family that actually wanted me—it was almost too much to hope for.

"Yes," I whispered. "I want to stay."

Mrs. Steele smiled. "Then we'll make it happen."

"It won't be easy though," Mr. Steele added, his expression turning serious. "There are complications we need to address."

"Like what?" Emma asked.

"Like the fact that Martin Chen is still Vivienne's legal guardian," Mr. Steele said. "Until a court says otherwise, he has parental rights over her."

My stomach dropped. "But he tried to kill me."

"We know, sweetheart. And that's exactly what we'll argue in court." Mrs. Steele leaned forward. "But the legal system moves slowly. Even with Principal Morrison's statement, even with the CPS investigation, it could take months before Martin's rights are terminated."

"What does that mean for Vivienne?" Rafael asked, his voice tight.

"It means we need to file for emergency foster placement immediately," Mr. Steele explained. "Argue that Vivienne is in imminent danger if returned to Martin's care. With the evidence of abuse and the recent assault, we have a strong case."

"But?" Emma prompted, because there was clearly a 'but' coming.

"But Martin could fight it," Mr. Steele said. "He could claim the abuse allegations are false. That Rafael attacked him unprovoked and Vivienne is lying to cover for him. He could demand she be returned to his custody while the investigation is ongoing."

Fear shot through me like ice water. "No. No, I can't go back there. I can't—"

A hand landed on my thigh under the table, warm and steady.

I looked over to find Rafael watching me, his expression calm but his eyes intense.

"You're not going back," he said firmly. "That's not happening."

"Rafael's right," Mrs. Steele said. "We won't let that happen. But we need to be prepared for Martin to put up a fight."

"What kind of fight?" Mathias asked, speaking up for the first time.

"Legal challenges," Mr. Steele said. "Character assassination. He'll try to paint Vivienne as a troubled teen who ran away. He'll try to paint us as interfering outsiders who don't know the full story. He might even try to press charges against Rafael for assault and use that as evidence that this household is unsafe."

Rafael's hand tightened slightly on my thigh. I hadn't even realized he'd left it there, but now I was acutely aware of it—the pressure, the warmth, the silent promise in that touch.

"Let him try," Rafael said coldly. "We'll bury him."

"We will," Mr. Steele agreed. "But it's going to be messy. There will be court dates, home visits from CPS, interviews with Vivienne. It's going to be stressful and invasive."

He looked directly at me. "Vivienne, you need to understand what you're signing up for. If we pursue this, you're going to have to tell your story over and over again. To social workers, to judges, to lawyers. You're going to have to relive the abuse in detail. And Martin's lawyers might try to discredit you, to make you look like you're lying."

My hands were shaking again. "I can handle it."

"You shouldn't have to," Emma said fiercely. "You shouldn't have to prove that you were abused. It's not fair."

"Life's not fair," Mrs. Steele said gently. "But that doesn't mean we stop fighting."

"There's also the question of documentation," Mr. Steele continued. "Medical records showing evidence of abuse would strengthen our case significantly. Vivienne, did you ever see a doctor for your injuries?"

I shook my head. "Uncle Martin wouldn't let me. He said doctors would ask too many questions."

"Of course he did," Mr. Steele muttered. "Alright. We'll work with what we have. Principal Morrison's statement will help. And if there are any witnesses—teachers, neighbors, anyone who saw signs of abuse—we'll need their testimony."

"What about the money?" Emma asked. "Vivienne said Martin stole her college fund. Can we get that back?"

"Potentially," Mr. Steele said. "But that's a separate legal battle. One thing at a time."

"And the assault charges Martin might file against Rafael?" Mrs. Steele asked. "How do we handle that?"

"Self-defense," Mr. Steele said immediately. "Rafael entered the apartment because he heard Vivienne in distress. He used reasonable force to stop an ongoing assault. Any decent lawyer will argue that Rafael saved Vivienne's life."

"Which is exactly what happened," Mathias added.

"The problem is proving it," Mr. Steele said. "It's Rafael's word—and Vivienne's—against Martin's. Unless there's physical evidence..."

"There are bruises on Vivienne's neck," Emma said quickly. "From when he was strangling her. I saw them."

"Are they still visible?" Mrs. Steele asked me.

I touched my throat automatically. The bruises had faded a lot in three days, but there were still faint marks. "A little."

"We need to document them," Mr. Steele said. "Photographs, medical examination if possible. The more evidence we have, the stronger our case."

"There's also the matter of finances," Mrs. Steele said, looking at her husband. "Fostering and potentially adopting Vivienne—we need to make sure we can support her properly. Medical care, therapy, legal fees..."

"We can handle it," Mr. Steele said firmly. "Money isn't the issue."

"I can get a job," I blurted out. "I can help pay for—"

"No," Rafael said flatly.

"But—"

"You're a student," he continued. "Your job is to go to school and heal. Not to work yourself to death trying to pay us back for basic human decency."

"Rafael's right," Mrs. Steele said. "Vivienne, if you want to get a part-time job eventually, for your own spending money or independence, that's one thing. But you're not responsible for covering the costs of your own care. That's on us."

"But I don't want to be a burden—"

"You're not," Mr. Steele cut in. "You're a child who needs help. There's no shame in that."

Tears were burning in my eyes again. I blinked them back.

Rafael's hand squeezed my thigh again, gentler this time. Reassuring.

"Okay," Mr. Steele said, looking around the table. "Here's what we're going to do. Tomorrow morning, I'm calling our lawyer. We'll start the process for emergency foster placement and file for termination of Martin's parental rights. We'll also schedule a medical exam for Vivienne to document any remaining injuries."

"I'll contact CPS directly," Mrs. Steele added. "Let them know we're willing to serve as Vivienne's foster family and start the home study process."

"What about Principal Morrison?" Emma asked.

"I'll reach out to him tomorrow," Mr. Steele said. "Get his official statement in writing. The more documentation we have, the better."

"And if Martin shows up here?" Rafael asked, his voice hard.

"He won't get past the gate," Mr. Steele said. "I'll make sure security knows he's not allowed on the property. If he tries anything—anything at all—we call the police immediately."

"Good," Rafael said.

Mr. Steele looked at me. "Vivienne, I want to be very clear about something. This process is going to be long and difficult. There will be setbacks. There will be moments where it feels impossible. But we're not giving up. We're going to fight for you every step of the way. Understand?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"And if at any point this becomes too much," Mrs. Steele added softly, "if you need a break or you need to talk to someone, you tell us. We'll get you whatever support you need. Therapy, counseling, whatever helps."

"Okay," I managed.

"One more thing," Mr. Steele said. "This family takes care of its own. If we're doing this—if we're bringing you into this family—then you're one of us. Permanently. That means you don't face this alone. We all face it together."

Emma reached over and grabbed my hand. "Together."

"Together," Mrs. Steele echoed.

Rafael's hand was still on my thigh, steady and warm.

"Together," he said quietly.

I couldn't hold the tears back anymore. They spilled over, running down my cheeks.

But for the first time in three years, they weren't tears of fear or pain.

They were tears of relief. Of hope.

Of finally, finally feeling like I belonged somewhere.

"Thank you," I whispered. "Thank you so much."

Mrs. Steele came around the table and pulled me into a hug. "You don't need to thank us, sweetheart. This is what family does."

Family.

I had a family again.

And even though I knew the road ahead was going to be hard—that Martin wasn't going to give up easily, that there would be court battles and legal nightmares and moments where I'd want to give up—I also knew I wasn't facing it alone anymore.

The Steeles were going to fight for me.

Emma was going to fight for me.

Rafael was going to fight for me.

And for the first time since my parents died, I felt safe.

Really, truly safe.

Rafael's hand squeezed my thigh one more time before slowly pulling away, and I almost reached for it—wanting that connection, that reassurance.

But I didn't.

Instead, I wiped my eyes and took a shaky breath.

"Okay," I said. "What do we do first?"

Mr. Steele smiled. "First, we finish dinner. Then we get you settled in properly. Tomorrow, we start the legal battle. But tonight?" He raised his glass of water. "Tonight, we celebrate having a new member of the family."

Everyone raised their glasses.

"To Vivienne," Mrs. Steele said warmly.

"To Vivienne," they all echoed.