The courts would look favorably on their emotional ties to Bryce, and take into consideration that Bryce was older, shared a history with each of them, and was far more financially capable of taking care of all of them. She was twenty-three years old, a stranger to them, had no experience with children, had no clue how to be a parent, and would probably be broke in three months.
Yes, it was true that she had a piece of paper that gave her legal rights to them, but Kaya had spent enough time in Florida’s child welfare system to know that a notarized piece of paper wasn’t enough. She’d witnessed a lot of cases where the courts ruled against legal rights because they didn’t think it was in the best interest of the child—her own case was one of those where best interest won out over legal and maternal rights. Kaya knew now exactly how all those parents who’d fought for their children and lost them felt. She knew how Nadine felt when she lost custody of her. The only difference was that Nadine hadn’t really fought for her; she’d used her parental rights for her own selfish reasons that had nothing to do with love. The courts had been on little Kaya’s side, and had made the right decision in her favor. Would they do the same for Jason, Alyssa, and Anastasia?
If she were honest with herself, Kaya knew she couldn’t expect the courts to side with her in this case. She couldn’t think of one person who would be on her side. Not one.
Kaya sighed as she exited the car and walked toward the mudroom. The shock of learning about Michael and Lauren’s sudden deaths, inheriting the children, then finding out they didn’t have a penny to their names—all in two days—was hard enough to fathom. She never thought she’d have to fight for them, too.
The thought of losing her nephew and nieces to Bryce Fontaine left a hollow feeling in the pit of Kaya’s stomach, and as she sat on the bench in the mudroom to shed her boots, she squeezed her eyelids together to stop the stinging tears from falling. If she lost them, she had no one to blame but herself. A stupid, childish grudge against her sister could cost her the three most precious things that have ever entered her life. She had to find a way to keep them.
Kaya opened her eyes and stared at the white ceiling. “God, help me. Make a way for me to keep the children, please.”
As an adult, Kaya didn’t practice any religion, but as a child, she’d lived in a few foster homes where the norm was to attend church on Sundays. She’d sat in the congregation with her foster families and listened, unimpressed, as people shared miracles that God had done in their lives. Before she’d become a ward of the state of Florida, Kaya had spent years praying for her father to come back and take her out of the hellhole he’d left her in. Since God never answered that prayer, she’d stop believing in miracles.
From what she’d learned about Michael and Lauren, it seemed as if they’d been regular church attendees, so perhaps God would grant this wish—not for her, but for Michael and Lauren and their children’s sakes.
Feeling a little more balanced in spirit, Kaya got up and opened the door that led into the house. But as she entered the palatial foyer and took in the grandeur of the marble Grecian columns separating several richly furnished areas of the first floor, and the myriad of Palladian windows that afforded breathtaking views of Crystal Lake and the rolling mountains behind it, Bryce’s claim rang loud and clear in her ears.
Mine. L’etoile du Nord belongs to me.
This was Bryce Fontaine’s house. And she’d bet anything that in that big head of his, he thought that he owned everything in it, including her sister’s children. Yet, she thought, biting into her lower lip, nowhere in this house, not even in the third-floor unfinished master suite, was there a sign that Bryce Fontaine lived here.