By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, casting a pale light over the city, my resolve had solidified into an unbreakable foundation. There was something ferociously protective about the bond between a father and son, and the love I had for my grandsons was no less fierce.
I spent the morning making calls, mobilizing a network I had meticulously built over decades. Michael’s story wasn’t just his own; it became a rallying cry for those who had seen the underbelly of corporate and familial power plays. The legal army was assembling.
But no army marches without a general. So, after ensuring that Michael and the twins were safe, I set up a meeting with our new legal counsel, a formidable woman named Helen Braxton. Her reputation preceded her; she was known for her tactical brilliance and her disdain for procedural delays.
