The family court was a joke—marble floors, bored judges, and Min-jae's lawyers in suits that cost more than Kang-woo's old car.
Kang-woo sat beside Ji-woon in a loose black shirt that hid the small bump, hand resting on his stomach like it could shield the kid from the circus. Morning sickness had turned into all-day sickness, but he kept his face straight while Min-jae's team waved DNA reports and "unstable Omega" clauses like weapons.
"He's not even Han Seung-ho," one lawyer droned. "Court precedent clearly states the child belongs to the legal family line. Director Min-jae is next in line for custody."
Min-jae leaned back, smiling like he'd already won. "I'll raise it properly. No street-rat influence. No scandal."
Kang-woo's stomach twisted. Not from nausea this time—from pure rage.
He stood up before Ji-woon could stop him. "You want my kid?" His voice came out soft and pretty but every word was pure gutter. "Come take it. I'll shove this pregnancy test so far up your ass you'll piss two lines for the rest of your life."
The judge looked ready to faint.
Ji-woon rose beside him, Alpha scent rolling thick enough to choke the entire room. "This hearing is over. I've bought the bank that holds every loan on your law firm. One more word and you're all bankrupt by lunch."
Min-jae's smile cracked. "You can't—"
"I already did." Ji-woon slid a thick folder across the table. "Every dirty deal you made. Every offshore account. Every bribe to the board. The prosecutor's waiting outside with cuffs. You're finished."
Security moved in. Min-jae tried to run. Two guards grabbed him. He screamed threats about press leaks and emergency appeals, but Ji-woon just watched with cold eyes while they dragged him out.
The judge slammed the gavel so hard it cracked. "Case dismissed. Child stays with the parents."
Kang-woo didn't feel relief. He felt something heavier.
Back in the car, Ji-woon pulled him into his lap before the driver even started the engine. Big hands spread over the bump, thumb stroking slow circles.
"Tell me you want this," Ji-woon said against his neck, voice rough. "The kid. The life. Me. All of it."
Kang-woo closed his eyes, forehead pressed to Ji-woon's shoulder. The street-rat part of him still wanted to run. The rest of him—the part that had been knotted senseless, protected, claimed—didn't.
"I want it," he whispered. "I want the kid. I want the fancy cage. I want your psychotic possessive ass. All of it."
Ji-woon's arms tightened like he'd never let go.
But Kang-woo's phone buzzed between them.
A new message from an unknown number.
Court didn't matter. The crew's outside the mansion. Ten million or we take the kid ourselves. Tick tock, princess.
Kang-woo deleted it, but his hand stayed on his stomach.
The power struggle was dying inside the family.
The one outside was just getting started.