The way she’d started leaving her expensive clothes in the closet in favor of jeans and sweaters that actually belonged on a farm. She fit here. That was the problem. She fit so well that Lucas couldn’t imagine the house without her anymore, and that terrified him more than any court hearing or child services investigation. Saturday afternoon, Emma was playing in the yard with Mason when Amelia’s phone rang.
She looked at the screen, her expression going tight. “It’s Patricia,” she said. “I should take this.” She walked to the barn for privacy. Lucas watched from the porch, uneasy crawling up his spine. 10 minutes later, she emerged looking shaken. “What happened?” he asked. “The board filed a motion to freeze my personal accounts, not company assets, my personal money.
” “They’re claiming I’ve been liquidating assets irresponsibly, that I’m not competent to manage my own finances.” She laughed, high and brittle. “They’re trying to put me under a conservatorship, like I’m some incompetent child who can’t be trusted with her own money.” “Can they do that?” “They’re trying. Patricia says we can fight it, but it’ll take time, weeks, maybe months.
” She pressed her palms to her eyes. “In the meantime, I can’t access most of my money, can’t transfer funds, can’t pay lawyers or investigators or anyone who might actually help me fight back.” Lucas felt something cold settle in his stomach. “How much do you have access to?” “Enough to survive for a while, not enough to wage a legal war against a board with unlimited resources.
So, they’re choking you out.” “Exactly. Exactly.” “Forcing me to either give up or come back on their terms.” She looked at him, exhausted and furious. “I should have seen this coming, should have moved money around before they could freeze it, but I was too focused on winning the injunction.” “Stop,” Lucas said.
“You did what you thought was right. They’re the ones playing dirty.” “Doesn’t matter if I can’t fight back.” Emma ran up to the porch, Mason toddling behind her. “Amelia, come see the bug I found. It’s huge.” Amelia pasted on a smile. “Lead the way, sweetheart.” She followed Emma into the yard, leaving Lucas on the porch with dread building in his chest.
They were running out of time and options, and Monday was coming whether they were ready or not. That night, after the kids were asleep, Lucas found Amelia in the guest room packing. “What are you doing?” he asked from the doorway. “Getting ready. If Monday goes badly, I might need to leave fast.” “You’re not leaving.” “Lucas, I’m serious. You’re not running again.
We face this together, remember?” Amelia sat on the edge of the bed, a shirt clutched in her hands. “What if facing it together means they take Emma and Mason? What if my being here is the reason child services decides you’re unfit?” “Then we appeal. We fight. We don’t give up.” “You say that like it’s simple.
It’s not simple, it’s terrifying, but running won’t fix anything.” Lucas crossed the room, sat beside her. “You told me once that you came here looking for something real, something that wasn’t performance or strategy. Did you find it?” “You know I did.” “Then stay. Fight for it. Fight for us.” “What if I lose?” “Then we lose together, but at least we tried.
” Amelia looked at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. “I don’t know how to do this, how to be vulnerable, how to let people see me fail.” “Nobody knows how. You just do it and hope it doesn’t kill you.” She laughed wetly. “That’s a terrible pep talk.” “I’m a farmer, not a motivational speaker.” “You’re an idiot.” “Probably.” “But I’m your idiot.
” Amelia kissed him then, sudden and desperate and real. Lucas kissed her back, tasting salt and fear and something that felt like hope. When they pulled apart, she was crying for real. “I’m so scared,” she whispered. “Me, too.” “What if this doesn’t work?” “Then we figure out plan B and plan C and however many plans it takes.” She nodded, wiping her eyes.
“Okay. I’ll stay. I’ll fight.” “Good. But if they try to take Emma and Mason because of me, they won’t.” “But if they do Amelia.” He took her face in his hands. “Stop borrowing trouble. We don’t know what’s going to happen Monday. So, let’s just get through the weekend first.” She nodded again, leaning into his touch.
They stayed like that for a while, just breathing together, trying to believe their own reassurances. Sunday was quiet in the way that days before battle always are. They went through the motions, breakfast, chores, playing with the kids. Emma sensed the tension and got clingy, following Lucas or Amelia everywhere.
Mason was fussy, refusing to nap, crying for no apparent reason. By evening, everyone was wound tight. Lucas made dinner while Amelia gave Mason a bath. Emma set the table with obsessive precision, arranging each fork and knife perfectly. “Daddy?” she said as Lucas was draining pasta. “Yeah, sweetheart?” “Is tomorrow going to be bad?” Lucas wanted to lie, wanted to tell her everything would be fine, that there was nothing to worry about, but Emma was too smart for comfortable lies.
“I don’t know,” he said honestly, “but whatever happens, we’re going to be okay, all of us.” “Promise?” “Promise.” They ate dinner in subdued quiet. Afterward, Emma asked if Amelia would read her a bedtime story. They went upstairs together while Lucas cleaned up and put Mason down. By the time he finished, Amelia was coming out of Emma’s room, looking wrung out.
“She made me promise I wouldn’t leave,” Amelia said, “like really promise. She said promises to kids are different than promises to grownups, and I have to mean it.” “Do you mean it?” “Yes.” “Even if it’s stupid?” “Even if I should leave to protect them, I can’t.” She leaned against the wall. “When did I get so attached to your kids?” “Probably around the time they got attached to you.
” “This is a disaster.” “Best disaster I’ve ever had.” Amelia almost smiled. “You really are an idiot.” “Yeah, but I’m consistently an idiot. That counts for something.” They went to bed early, both knowing sleep would be impossible. Lucas lay awake staring at the ceiling, running through every possible Monday scenario. Most of them ended badly.
