Chapter 7: The Man Named Richard
Richard Russo was waiting outside the courthouse.
He was leaning against the stone railing at the bottom of the steps — a man in his late forties, lean, with Elena's dark eyes and none of her warmth.
He had a cigarette between his fingers that he wasn't smoking, just holding, and he watched us come through the doors with the patient look of someone who had planned this moment carefully.
"Victor Moretti," he said.
Not a greeting.
An identification.
Victor stopped on the steps above him.
"Richard."
"You know who I am."
"Grace found your name in Elena's records this morning.
After your filing."
Richard dropped the cigarette and stepped on it.
"I have a right to petition for my nephew.
He's Elena's son.
That makes him my family."
"When did you last see Elena?" Victor asked.
Something moved across Richard's face.
"That's not relevant."
"It's relevant to me."
"I was in contact with her," Richard said.
"We had a complicated relationship.
Siblings do."
"She never mentioned you," I said.
Richard looked at me for the first time.
He took in my age, my worn backpack, the way I was standing slightly in front of Victor.
His expression was dismissive in the specific way of someone who doesn't consider thirteen-year-olds worth addressing directly.
"And you are?" he said.
"Olivia Hart.
I've been caring for Noah and the other children for seven months."
"Yes," he said.
"I heard about that.
Quite the arrangement." He looked back at Victor.
"A billionaire and a child running an unauthorized shelter.
The judge must have loved that."
"The judge approved our emergency order," Grace said from beside Victor.
"Filed forty minutes ago."
Richard's eyes moved to her.
"I know.
I also know that a competing petition filed before that order was signed creates a contested proceeding.
Which means the emergency order doesn't settle anything.
It just means we both show up at the full hearing."
"You filed before the order was signed," Victor said.
"You knew what time we were in court."
"I did my research."
"Why?" Victor's voice was even.
"You haven't been part of Noah's life.
You weren't part of Elena's life, by your own admission.
What do you actually want?"
Richard looked at him for a long moment.
"I want to make sure my nephew is raised by family."
"He will be."
"By his father's family," Richard said.
"Who didn't know he existed a week ago.
Who found him in a basement." He let that sit.
"I'm not the villain here, Moretti.
I'm a man who just lost his sister and wants to know her son is safe."
It was a reasonable thing to say.
It was delivered reasonably.
And something about the delivery made the hair on my arms stand up.
Grace put her hand on Victor's arm briefly.
"We should go."
Victor didn't move immediately.
He looked at Richard for another moment — the way he looked at documents he wasn't sure he could trust.
"We'll see you at the hearing," he said.
We walked to the car.
Margaret was already inside.
Grace got in the front.
Victor held the door for me and I climbed in, and as we pulled away I looked back through the window.
Richard was watching the car.
He had taken out his phone.
"He knew our court time," I said.
"Yes," Victor said.
"How?"
"I don't know yet." He looked out the window.
"But someone told him."
The drive back was quiet.
Margaret sat with her planner open but didn't write anything.
Grace made two calls, both short, both in a low voice I couldn't fully follow.
When we got back to the building, Patricia had the children at the table eating lunch.
Noah looked up when we came in and smiled at me, and the smile was so ordinary, so uncomplicated, that I felt something tighten in my chest.
I sat beside him.
"How was the court?" he asked.
"It went well," I said.
"Victor is officially your guardian now.
For the next six weeks while they finish the paperwork."
"And then?"
"And then it becomes permanent."
He nodded, thinking about it.
"What about the others?
Daniel and Lucas and the twins and Mia?"
"All of you," I said.
"Victor petitioned for all six of you."
Noah looked across the table at Daniel, who was eating and pretending not to listen.
"Did you hear that?" Noah said.
"I heard," Daniel said.
"Are you happy?"
Daniel picked up his fork.
"Ask me in six weeks."
Which was, for Daniel, practically a celebration.
Victor came downstairs a few minutes later.
He sat at the table and Patricia put a bowl of soup in front of him without asking, and he ate it without commenting, which told me he was thinking hard about something.
After lunch, when the younger children had moved to the other side of the room, Victor looked at me.
"I need to ask you something," he said quietly.
"And I need you to think carefully before you answer."
"Okay."
"In the seven months you were here — did anyone come around asking about the children?
Anyone who didn't identify themselves officially?
Anyone who felt wrong?"
I thought about it.
"There was a man," I said slowly.
"About two months ago.
He knocked on the side door.
He said he was looking for the building manager.
But he looked past me into the hallway when I opened the door.
He wasn't looking for the building manager."
"What did he look like?"
"Lean.
Dark eyes.
He had a jacket with a logo I didn't recognize."
Victor was very still.
"Did he come back?"
"Not that I saw."
Victor picked up his phone and sent a message.
Then he set it down and looked at me.
"Richard Russo has been watching this building for at least two months," he said.
"He knew about Noah long before he filed that petition."
"Then why wait?"
"Because he was waiting to see what I would do first." Victor looked toward the stairs.
"He wanted to know if I was going to claim Noah.
If I did, he could file a competing petition and use that as leverage.
If I didn't, he could step in as the only family member and take Noah quietly."
"Leverage for what?" I asked.
May you like
Victor's expression was careful and controlled and told me nothing.
"That," he said, "is what I need to find out before the hearing."
