The Apartment – Night Before Court
Tia Rosa's tiny living room was a warzone of nervous energy.
The air smelled like chamomile tea and slightly burnt rice—a failed attempt to "cook away the stress." She sat at her lace-covered table, a well-used handkerchief clutched in her hand, staring at the phone like it had personally betrayed her.
"I can't do it," she whispered to the empty room. "I can't drag my own blood into that courtroom. They're criminals, sí, but they're my sister's boys. Dios mío, Isabella, what did you get me into?"
The lock on her front door jiggled.
A second later, Sofía swept in, late as usual, her designer heels clicking on the tile. Her earrings swung, clinking together like tiny battle bells.
She tossed her purse onto Rosa's good couch like she owned the place and plopped down in the chair opposite.
"You're thinking like a coward."
Rosa's head snapped up. Her eyes widened. "¿Perdón? Excuse me?"
"You heard me." Sofía leaned forward, her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arched.
Her eyes, usually so warm, were sharp as glass. "Isabella made you promise. She made you swear on your mother's soul that you'd protect her daughter if anything happened. And now you want to break a dead woman's word because a few overgrown boys in expensive suits puffed out their chests and growled?"
"They are not just overgrown boys!" Rosa hissed, slamming her hand on the table. The teacups rattled. "They are the Fernandez brothers. Elijah... he could... he could have me buried!"
Sofía let out a dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck in the back of her head.
"Por favor, Rosa. You've been burying cockroaches with your broom since 1987. This is the same energy. Just a bigger bug."
She reached across the table and grabbed Rosa's trembling hands, her grip surprisingly strong.
Just then, DING-DONG! The third knock had the weight of destiny.
When Tia Rosa opened it, there stood Abogado Rodríguez—young, sharp suit tailored within an inch of its life, fiery eyes that burned hotter than his perfectly gelled hair.
His leather briefcase looked almost too big for him, but the way he carried it screamed I came here to change lives.
"Señora Flores," he said, gripping her hand with a firm, earnest shake that left no room for doubt. "I've reviewed the preliminary details. This is a winnable case."
Sofía clapped her hands together like she'd just summoned him from the heavens. "You see? Fate."
"But... the environment," Rosa stammered, clutching her handkerchief like it was her last shield. "The danger..."
"The current environment is the danger!" Rodríguez cut in, already pulling out a sleek tablet. His tone was sharp enough to slice marble.
"We'll argue the child's exposure to a high-risk lifestyle is detrimental to her well-being. We have the mother's will—explicitly requesting an alternative. This is not just strategy, Señora. This is moral. Legal. Necessary."
Rosa felt the air shift. Sofía's smug encouragement pressed from one side, Rodríguez's passionate certainty from the other.
She was being cornered by truth, and by ghosts.
She thought of Isabella. Her laugh. Her stubborn fire. The promise whispered with her last breath: Protect Juliet.
Rosa's spine straightened like steel had been poured into it. The fear was still there, gnawing—but it was smaller now. Outshined by something older, bigger.
She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and said the words that sealed her fate:
"Bien. For Isabella ,yes."
SCENE: FAMILY COURT - JUDGE SANDOVAL'S COURTROOM
The courtroom was a stark, intimidating box of wood and law books. On one side sat Tia Rosa, Sofia a cool, elegant pillar of support beside her, and Abogado Rodríguez.
On the other side sat the Fernandez brothers, a solid wall of black suits and simmering rage. Their lawyer, a high-priced shark named Mr. Sterling, looked bored.
But the true center of the universe was in the second row, tucked between Riven and a mountain of a bodyguard.
Juliet.
She was perched on Riven's lap, utterly enthralled by Ms. Rachel on a tablet, her little body swaying to "I'm So Happy." The entire Fernandez empire had been put on pause for naptime and educational songs.
The judge, a weary-looking woman named Sandoval, peered over her glasses. "We are here to discuss the temporary custody of one Juliet Isabella Fernandez. Mr. Rodríguez, you may begin."
As Abogado Rodríguez stood and began speaking about "a mother's dying wish" and "a stable, normal environment," Riven decided Juliet needed a snack.
He pulled out a small Tupperware of cut-up pineapple.
The entire courtroom watched, mesmerized, as the family's head enforcer, a man who could disassemble a rifle blindfolded, carefully speared a piece of pineapple with a tiny fork.
"Okay, little boss, open up. It's the yellow sunshine," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that was entirely at odds with the gentle action.
Juliet, eyes glued to Ms. Rachel, obediently opened her mouth like a baby bird.
SQUELCH.
The piece of pineapple was juicy. A tiny trickle of golden liquid escaped Juliet's lips and dripped directly onto the sleeve of Riven's five-thousand-dollar suit.
Riven didn't flinch. He didn't scowl. He just reached over with a monogrammed handkerchief (black, of course) and gently wiped her chin.
"Messy," he whispered, a tiny, almost invisible smile touching his lips.
In that single, unguarded moment, Tia Rosa's entire argument crumbled.
Abogado Rodríguez was talking about "firearms and criminal enterprises." But what Tia Rosa saw was a family.
She saw the way Elijah's eyes, cold and fixed on the lawyer, would flicker every few seconds to his sister, checking that she was still content.
She saw the way Leo had a backup tablet charging at his feet, ready to swap it out the second the battery dipped below 50%.
These weren't just hombres con pistolas. They were her sister's sons. They were brothers. They were, in their own terrifying, dysfunctional way, a unit of pure, unwavering love.
Sofia, sensing her hesitation, leaned in. "Don't look at them, Rosa," she hissed softly. "Look at the will. Remember your promise."
But it was too late. Tia Rosa had seen the pineapple. She had seen the handkerchief. She had seen the love, and it was a more powerful weapon than any threat Elijah could ever muster.
Her heart felt like it was being torn in two. One half screamed for Isabella, for the promise, for the normal life.
The other half ached for the boys she'd helped raise, for the messy, complicated, dangerous love that was the only family Juliet had ever known.
As Mr. Sterling stood to deliver what was sure to be a blistering defense, Tia Rosa met Elijah's gaze across the courtroom.
The ice in his eyes was gone, replaced by something raw and open. It was the look of a nephew, begging his aunt not to break his family apart.
The gavel cracked. "We'll reconvene after a five-minute recess," Judge Sandoval announced.
Five minutes.
And just like that, the law decided who got to love her...