Chapter 9 Fault Lines

knock came at 7:12 a.m.

It was precise. Professional. Unforgiving.

Lina knew, even before she opened the door, that whatever stood on the other side would change the shape of her day.

She pressed a finger to her lips, signaling the children to stay quiet, then opened the door.

Two women stood in the narrow hallway.

One wore a navy blazer and held a leather folder. The other had a tablet tucked under her arm, her expression neutral but observant.

"Ms. Lina Moore?" the woman in the blazer asked.

"Yes."

"My name is Cynthia Reynolds. This is my colleague, Karen Liu. We're with Child and Family Services."

The world tilted.

Lina forced her voice to remain steady. "Is there a problem?"

"We'd like to ask you a few questions," Cynthia said gently. "May we come in?"

Lina stepped aside.

The apartment suddenly felt too small. Too imperfect. She noticed everything at once-the scuffed coffee table, the mismatched chairs, the faint crack in the wall she'd meant to cover with a picture frame.

The women sat at the dining table. Lina remained standing.

"This won't take long," Cynthia said. "We're conducting a routine investigation following a formal complaint."

Lina's pulse roared in her ears. "A complaint from who?"

Cynthia met her gaze. "We can't disclose that."

Lina didn't need disclosure.

Maris.

Karen glanced toward the hallway. "Are the children home?"

"Yes," Lina said sharply. "And they're fine."

"We'll need to speak with them as well," Cynthia replied calmly.

Lina's hands curled into fists. "They're three. They don't need this."

"I understand this is stressful," Cynthia said. "But our priority is their welfare."

Lina laughed bitterly. "Then why are you here?"

The question hung in the air.

By noon, the apartment had been measured, examined, evaluated.

The fridge contents. The children's bedrooms. Their school schedules.

Ethan answered questions seriously, his small face tight with concentration. Noah joked until Karen gently asked him to stop. Elena clung to Lina's leg, wide-eyed and silent.

When it was over, Cynthia closed her folder.

"We'll be in touch," she said.

"How soon?" Lina asked.

"Soon," Cynthia replied. "Please don't leave the city."

The door closed behind them.

Lina slid down the wall and sat on the floor, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts.

She pulled out her phone and called Adrian.

He answered immediately.

"They came," Lina said, her voice breaking. "They're already here."

"I know," Adrian said tightly. "My team flagged it the moment the complaint was filed."

"So you knew this was coming?" Lina snapped.

"I knew it was possible," he corrected. "I didn't know it would be this fast."

"They talked to the kids," Lina whispered. "They looked at everything. Adrian, I can't-"

"I'm coming," he said.

"No," Lina said quickly. "Not here. Not now."

There was a pause.

"You're afraid your association with me will make it worse," Adrian said quietly.

"Yes."

"Understood," he replied. "But we need to talk."

They met that evening in a private conference room at his office.

Lina arrived alone.

She looked tired. Worn thin.

Adrian noticed immediately.

"You shouldn't have had to face that," he said.

"I've been facing worse my whole life," Lina replied. "This is just... louder."

He gestured for her to sit. She remained standing.

"They're questioning my ability to parent," she said. "Me. After everything."

"They question everyone," Adrian said. "Especially when money and power are involved."

Lina laughed hollowly. "Then why does it feel like I'm the one on trial?"

"Because Maris framed it that way," Adrian said. "She painted you as unstable. Unprepared. Overwhelmed."

Lina's chest tightened. "And you?"

"I was painted as an absent father with resources but questionable intent."

Silence fell.

"What do they want?" Lina asked.

Adrian didn't answer immediately.

"What do they want?" she repeated, sharper this time.

"They want a temporary reassessment," he said. "Custodial balance. Environmental review."

Lina stared at him. "Say the words."

"They want the children to spend time with me," Adrian said quietly.

The floor seemed to drop away.

"No," Lina said. "Absolutely not."

"It would be temporary," he added quickly. "Supervised. Structured."

"You're asking me to hand them over," Lina said, her voice trembling. "After everything?"

"I'm asking you to consider the optics," Adrian replied. "Refusal could be interpreted as noncooperation."

"I don't care about optics!" Lina shouted. "I care about my children."

"And I care about protecting them," Adrian said firmly. "Including from a system that might decide for us."

Her eyes filled with tears. "You promised."

"I promised to fight," he said. "Not that it would be clean."

She turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth.

"This is what she wants," Lina whispered. "To break me."

"Yes," Adrian agreed. "And she's close."

The next week was a blur.

School interviews. Home visits. Meetings.

Lina slept in fragments.

The children sensed the tension.

"Are we in trouble?" Noah asked one night.

"No," Lina said, forcing a smile. "Grown-ups are just being loud again."

Ethan watched her closely. "You're lying."

She knelt in front of him. "I'm scared," she admitted softly. "But I'm not giving up."

Elena wrapped her arms around Lina's neck. "We're not leaving you."

Lina held them all and cried quietly.

The recommendation came on a Friday afternoon.

Temporary dual placement.

Weekends with Adrian.

Weekdays with Lina.

Lina stared at the document in disbelief.

"They can't do this," she said, her voice hollow.

"They can," Adrian replied quietly. "And if we appeal immediately, it could escalate."

"So your solution is compliance," Lina said bitterly.

"My solution is survival," he said.

She looked at him then-really looked.

At the man who had power, lawyers, influence.

At the man who still couldn't undo the first mistake.

"I trusted you," she said softly.

Adrian flinched. "I know."

"You said you'd put them first."

"I am," he said. "Even if it costs me you."

That hurt more than she expected.

The first weekend arrived too soon.

Adrian stood outside Lina's apartment, hands clasped, expression controlled.

The children hovered behind Lina.

"This is temporary," Adrian said quietly. "I'll bring them back Sunday evening."

Ethan stepped forward. "Why?"

Adrian knelt. "Because sometimes grown-ups have to show they can share."

Ethan studied him. "Do you want us?"

Adrian didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Noah frowned. "Do we have to?"

"No," Lina said immediately. "You never have to do anything you don't want to."

Adrian met her gaze. "Lina-"

"They go because the system says so," she said coldly. "Not because I agree."

The children left.

The apartment felt unbearably quiet.

Lina sat on the couch, staring at the door long after it closed.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Maris.

Maris Moore: See? I told you you couldn't win alone.

Lina's fingers shook as she typed.

Lina Moore: This isn't over.

Maris Moore: It never is.

Sunday night, the children returned.

They were quiet.

Ethan went straight to his room. Noah clung to Lina longer than usual. Elena fell asleep on the couch.

Adrian lingered at the door.

"They were good," he said. "They're incredible."

Lina didn't look at him. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yes," he admitted.

She finally met his gaze. "Then understand this. I will never forgive you if this becomes permanent."

Adrian's expression hardened. "It won't."

"You don't get to decide that," Lina said.

As he left, Lina felt the ground beneath her life crack open.

Across the city, Maris Moore poured herself a glass of wine.

Phase one was complete.

And phase two would hurt much more.