Chapter 7 - Counter-Strike
The rain had returned by dawn, drumming a frantic, metallic rhythm against the high arched windows of the Charleston County Family Court.
The third-floor hallway smelled of wet wool, damp umbrellas, and the specific brand of institutional misery that only exists where marriages are officially dissolved into asset schedules.
Ryan sat on a wooden bench outside Courtroom 3B.
He had not slept. He had spent the night in his kitchen, his small desk lamp illuminating the bank statements, the utility bills, the attendance records from Mitchell Elementary, and the signed affidavits from Mrs. Jenkins attesting to his presence every night at dinner.
His suit was dry, his shoes were clean, but his eyes were rimmed with red.
Down the corridor, Richard Vance was walking toward him, looking like a man who had already ordered the victory champagne. Beside him, Nicole was dressed in an ivory wool dress, her posture confident, her leather handbag resting gracefully in the crook of her arm.
"Mr. Carter," Vance said, stopping five feet away. He had a smug, predatory tightness around his eyes. "I hope you had a chance to speak with your court-appointed representative. We’re offering you six hours every other Saturday, supervised at the county youth annex."
Ryan didn't stand up. He looked at Nicole.
"You’re really going to let him do this?" Ryan asked her. "Lily was looking for you after the play yesterday. You left before she even finished her cider."
Nicole’s eyes flickered with a brief, sharp guilt, but Vance stepped smoothly between them, blocking Ryan’s line of sight.
"My client’s parenting schedule is not on trial here today, Ryan. Yours is. And given the unfortunate events at Henderson-Brooks yesterday afternoon—the police presence, the executive terminations—we will be submitting an emergency petition alleging immediate domestic instability."
"You don't know what happened yesterday, Vance," Ryan said.
"I know that Arthur Henderson was arrested," Vance smiled, a flash of white porcelain. "And I know that without Arthur, the entire operational division is being liquidated under federal oversight. You won't have a desk by Monday, Ryan. You won't have a salary. You certainly won't have the thirty thousand in escrow the court requires for contested custody."
The courtroom doors opened with a heavy wooden click.
"Case 23-DR-4112, *Carter v. Carter*," the bailiff announced, his voice droning through the corridor.
Vance adjusted his tie, touched Nicole’s elbow, and walked through the doors.
Ryan took a deep, shuddering breath, stood up, and followed them into the room.
The courtroom was small, paneled in dark oak that had seen better days in the 1970s. Judge Margaret Sterling sat behind the elevated bench—a seventy-year-old jurist with spectacles hanging from a silver chain around her neck, known throughout the circuit as a woman who ate incompetent attorneys for breakfast and had zero tolerance for domestic gamesmanship.
"Be seated," Judge Sterling said, flipping through a thick blue case file. "We are here on the plaintiff’s emergency motion for modification of temporary physical custody. Mr. Vance, you have five minutes to justify why this couldn't wait for the regular docket."
Vance stepped to the podium with the easy confidence of a man walking into his own living room.
"Your Honor, the circumstances have deteriorated critically since our last conference. The defendant, Mr. Carter, has engaged in high-risk, unstable employment behaviors. He has incurred substantial debt, is currently facing imminent termination from his primary employer due to an ongoing federal investigation at Henderson-Brooks Logistics, and has consistently prioritized irregular overnight rideshare work over the supervisory needs of his seven-year-old daughter."
Judge Sterling looked over her glasses at Ryan, who stood alone at the defense table.
"Mr. Carter," she said. "Where is your attorney?"
"I don't have one, Your Honor," Ryan said, stepping to his table’s microphone. "I’m representing myself."
Vance smiled faintly down at his legal pad.
"Mr. Carter," Judge Sterling’s tone softened slightly, though it remained brisk. "This court strongly advises against pro se representation in custody matters involving minor children. Mr. Vance’s motion alleges substantial financial deficiency. Do you have proof of stable employment and verified income that meets the state statutory threshold?"
Ryan opened his folder.
"I have my pay stubs from the last three years, Your Honor. I have never missed a rent payment. I have never missed a medical co-pay. And my daughter—"
"Pay stubs from a company under federal receivership are meaningless, Your Honor," Vance interjected smoothly. "We have received confirmation that Henderson-Brooks has suspended all operational coordinator positions effective midnight."
"Is that true, Mr. Carter?" Judge Sterling asked.
Ryan swallowed. The air in his lungs felt like dry ash.
Before he could answer, the double doors at the back of the courtroom swung open with a resounding, deliberate boom.
Every head in the room turned.
Evelyn Brooks walked down the center aisle.
She wore an ink-black tailored coat that swept around her ankles, accompanied by an older man with silver hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and a leather briefcase bearing the gold crest of *Wilkinson, Davis & Cole*—the most expensive, feared corporate litigation firm in the state of South Carolina.
Vance froze at the podium, his mouth slightly open.
Judge Sterling’s gavel didn't fall. She leaned forward, her spectacles dropping completely from her nose. "Mrs. Brooks? This is a closed family court session."
"My apologies, Judge Sterling," Evelyn said, her voice clear, commanding, and perfectly modulated as she stepped inside the bar. "I am here as the President and Chief Executive Officer of Henderson-Brooks Logistics. And this is Harrison Cole, Senior Counsel for our corporate board."
The older lawyer, Cole, bowed slightly to the bench. "Your Honor. We have an emergency submission regarding the employment status of Mr. Ryan Carter."
Vance found his voice, though it had jumped half an octave. "Your Honor! This is an irregular intrusion! Henderson-Brooks has no standing in a domestic custody determination!"
"I’ll decide who has standing in my courtroom, Mr. Vance," Judge Sterling said, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. "Mr. Cole, what is the nature of this submission?"
Cole stepped to the podium, gently nudging Vance aside with his shoulder as if Vance were an empty coat rack.
"Your Honor, Mr. Vance has made representations regarding the insolvency of Henderson-Brooks that are not only false, but deliberately deceptive. Yesterday afternoon, our board completed a full internal audit. Mr. Ryan Carter was not terminated. In fact, Mr. Carter has been appointed our Senior Director of Global Supply Integrity."
Cole opened his briefcase and laid a certified document on the clerk’s desk.
"This is Mr. Carter’s five-year executive employment contract, approved by unanimous vote of the board at seven o'clock this morning. It carries a base salary of three hundred and twenty thousand dollars, complete medical benefits for himself and his daughter, and an unrestricted housing allowance."
Cole paused, then slid a second document forward.
"And this, Your Honor, is a certified cashier’s check for fifty thousand dollars, deposited into an irrevocable escrow account in Mr. Carter’s name at First Citizens Bank, fulfilling all statutory requirements for primary physical custody reserves."
The courtroom went dead silent.
Nicole stared at Ryan, her mouth open, color draining completely from her cheeks.
Vance’s hands were shaking as he gripped the edge of his table. "This... this is an orchestrated stunt! Mrs. Brooks is using company assets to protect an employee who—"
"Mr. Vance," Evelyn interrupted, speaking directly to the attorney with a quiet, lethal precision that made the hair on Ryan’s arms stand up. "You might want to review the federal filings that were submitted to the United States District Court twenty minutes ago. The Department of Justice has named Vance Maritime Holdings as an unindicted co-conspirator in the grand jury indictment of Arthur Henderson."
Vance’s knees visibly buckled.
"The South Carolina Bar Disciplinary Committee has already received a copy of the Pier Fourteen manifests," Evelyn continued, her dark eyes pinning Vance like a beetle under a pin. "I would suggest you worry less about Mr. Carter’s parenting schedule and considerably more about whether you will be practicing law by next Tuesday."
Judge Sterling looked from Evelyn, to Cole, to the certified cashier’s check on her desk, and finally at Richard Vance, whose forehead was now beaded with a greasy layer of sweat.
"Mr. Vance," Judge Sterling said, her voice like grinding stones. "Do you have any further evidence to present on your emergency motion?"
Vance opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He looked at Nicole, who pulled her arm away from him as if his sleeve were on fire.
"No, Your Honor," Vance whispered.
Judge Sterling picked up her gavel and brought it down with a single, sharp crack that sounded like a gunshot.
May you like
"Emergency motion denied. Primary physical custody remains with the father, Mr. Ryan Carter. We will proceed to final decree on the regular docket. Court is adjourned."
***
