Page 64 of Ruthless Possession
In the kitchen, I find Matthew making coffee, his movements precise and controlled despite the tension in his shoulders. "Greyson's sending men to the scene," he tells me without turning around. "The club will have eyes on whatever's happening before the police finish processing."
I nod, though he can't see me. "Good. We need to know."
"Morgan?" Charlie's small voice makes me turn. She stands in the kitchen doorway, Princess Sparklehoof clutched to her chest, her eyes wide and frightened. "Is everything okay?"
"Everything's fine," I say quickly, moving to her side. "We're just watching the news."
Her eyes drift to the television. "Is it about my daddy?"
The question catches me off guard. "What makes you ask that?"
She shrugs, her small shoulders tense. "He used to get angry when people were on TV. When they showed missing ladies."
My blood runs cold. "He did?"
Charlie nods, her eyes downcast. "He said they were talking about things that weren't their business. That they should leave families alone."
Matthew and I exchange a look over her head. I crouch down to her level, taking her small hands in mine. I don't know what to say, so I just hold her little hands.
She is so young and I pray that the memories of her father will go away.
There is a buzzing at the front gate and I rush to check the security monitor. A woman stands there, clipboard in hand, looking up at the camera with a professional expression. The social worker.
"Ms. Morgan?" Charlie's voice is small behind me. "Who's that?"
I glance down at her anxious face. "Just someone who wants to talk to us about how you're doing here. Nothing to worry about."
Trenton appears at my side, his expression unreadable. "Want me to handle this?"
I shake my head. "No, I should talk to her. You and Matthew stay with Charlie."
I press the button to open the gate, then step outside to meet the social worker. She's a middle-aged woman with kind eyes but the tired posture of someone who's seen too much.
"Ms. Scott," she greets me. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"No, please come in." I lead her to the living room, watching her take in our home with a practiced eye.
"We need to talk about Charlie's case," she says, settling onto our couch. Her voice is careful, measured. "I've completed my investigation into her family connections."
I sit across from her, my hands clasped tightly in my lap. "And?"
Her expression softens. "There's no easy way to say this, but Charlie has no known relatives. We've searched extensively, but there's no record of any living family members."
The words hit me with unexpected force. No family. No one to claim her, love her, fight for her.
"We've confirmed that her birth mother died shortly after her birth," the social worker continues. "And now with Mr. Harris facing multiple charges…"
"So what happens now?" I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.
She meets my eyes directly. "Under these circumstances, the state would normally place her in foster care while beginning adoption proceedings. However…"
"However?"
"Given the temporary placement with you has gone well, and Charlie seems quite attached to all three of you, we could expedite the adoption process, if that's what you want."
My heart leaps. "Yes. We want that. All of us."
The social worker smiles. "I thought you might. Charlie speaks very highly of you all. The judge would need to approve, of course, but given the circumstances and your clean backgrounds, I don't anticipate any issues."
