Dominic's Pov

"Are you sure this is going to work?" I asked, my hands tapping rhythmically against the dark oak conference table. The room was filled with the scent of fresh coffee, high-end leather, and cold calculation of risk.

My lawyer, Lester Vallin, a gray and white haired man with a gravelly voice and the audacity of an armed gun pushed a lock of grayish brown hair behind his ear and hunched forward. His tone was flat, confident. "Absolutely. You're not asking for full custody. ...