The next morning, I dive into research like my life depends on it. Because it does. I meet with legal teams across the city. I see human attorneys, pack-law specialists, and the Alpha Council advisors. Every office looks the same by the time I’m through: polished desks, too-bright lights, and lawyers giving me the same pitying expression.
“You relinquished custody,” one says gently. “The contract is airtight.”
“You signed under no visible duress,” another adds. “No court will overturn it.”
“Landon is an Alpha,” a third says. “He provides stability. Resources. Status. Even if you prove emotional neglect, it will be difficult.”
Over and over, the same conclusion:
“You have no case alone.”
By the fifth meeting, I’m fighting the urge to scream. Or cry. Or both. I step outside into the co
