Chapter 6 The Enemy Strikes Back

The peace that filled Amara's home that night was unlike anything she had felt in years. For once, she drifted to sleep without fear gnawing at her chest, her children safe beside her and Cole's presence lingering like a steady anchor. But peace rarely lasted long in her world.

By the next morning, the storm had already found its way back.

The first blow came with a phone call. Her bank account, already fragile from months of setbacks, had been frozen under suspicious claims of fraud. Amara sat at the edge of her bed, the receiver trembling in her hand as the words echoed: "Pending investigation... unauthorized transactions... restricted access." She knew exactly who was behind it.

David.

Her ex-husband had many faces-charming to outsiders, ruthless in private. For years he had used money as a weapon, pulling strings to control and humiliate her. Even now, long after their divorce, he found ways to choke her progress. The timing was too precise to be coincidence.

Amara buried her face in her palms, willing the tears not to fall. She could not afford to break. Not when her children needed her strength.

Cole arrived minutes later, unannounced, as though heaven itself had whispered to him that she was crumbling. He found her in the kitchen, papers scattered across the table, her hands gripping her head.

"Amara?" His voice was low but firm.

She looked up, eyes red, lips trembling. "He's done it again, Cole. The account. Everything I had left-he's taken it."

Cole's jaw tightened. He moved closer, resting a steady hand on hers. "No. He hasn't taken everything. You still have me. And you have them." He glanced toward the hallway, where small footsteps padded against the floor-Micah, already sensing the storm.

Her son's eyes locked on hers, solemn and knowing. "Mama," he whispered, "I told you the door wouldn't close. It's only shaking."

The words pierced Amara's heart with equal parts comfort and conviction. How could a thirteen-year-old carry such weight? And yet, somehow, Micah did.

Cole straightened, his businessman's mind already turning. "I'll call my legal team. If David thinks he can win this battle with lies, he has no idea who he's up against."

Amara shook her head weakly. "Cole, I don't want to drag you into this mess-"

"You didn't drag me," he interrupted, eyes blazing. "I stepped in. And I'm not stepping out."

Something in his tone silenced her protests. For the first time, she realized Cole was not just offering comfort. He was preparing for war on her behalf.

But as the day wore on, the attacks multiplied. Anonymous emails arrived at her office, questioning her credibility. Clients began withdrawing from contracts without explanation. By evening, even her landlord had called, hinting at a complaint lodged against her.

David wasn't just trying to hurt her. He was trying to erase her.

That night, Amara gathered her children in the living room. The weight of despair pressed down like iron, but her children's eyes glowed with something stronger-faith.

Liam, quiet and steady, moved beside her. "He can't come in here, Mama," he said firmly, as though stating a law written in stone.

Kayla, her small hands folded tightly, lifted her chin. "He lies. But truth doesn't bow to lies. We will pray."

And Ella, sweet Ella, began to hum again-soft, almost imperceptible, but powerful. The air shifted with her melody, driving out the fear clawing at Amara's spirit.

Cole watched it all, his chest heavy with awe. In the world he knew-boardrooms, contracts, and wealth-battles were fought with numbers and strategy. But here, in this little home under siege, war was waged on another plane. He was a man of influence, yet he stood humbled before the quiet fire of a mother and her children.

Amara lifted her head, strength stirring again in her chest. For years, she had fought alone, but no more. She had an ally in Cole. She had warriors in her children. And above all, she had heaven's hand stretched over her life.

The enemy had struck back-but this time, she was not defenseless.