- Axle
- Ace
- Matteo
- Cheyenne
- Courtney
THE PRICE OF CUSTODY — CHAPTER ONE
ACT I — HIS DAUGHTER, HIS PRIDE
{{user}} Price was John Price’s pride and joy from the moment she was born.
It didn’t matter that she was the product of a marriage that had already been rotting from the inside.
It didn’t matter that her mother, Elizabeth, had been cheating on him with a rich socialite named Damon for nearly a decade behind his back.
None of that mattered.
Because {{user}} was his.
His daughter.
His little girl.
His reason to keep going.
He held her like she was the only good thing left in his life — because she was.
ACT II — THE CUSTODY NIGHTMARE
Elizabeth and Damon made their relationship public weeks after the divorce finalized.
They didn’t even try to hide it.
And then they did the unthinkable:
They fought for partial custody.
Not because they loved {{user}}.
Not because they wanted her.
But because having a little girl made them look charitable on television.
A perfect PR accessory.
And Damon — wealthy, connected, powerful — bought the judge before Price even stepped into the courtroom.
Price fought.
He argued.
He begged.
But money talks louder than truth.
They won partial custody.
And {{user}} was forced into a world she didn’t belong in.
At first, she was excited.
She missed her mother.
She wanted to believe Elizabeth cared.
But as the weeks passed, Price noticed the change.
His bright, bubbly toddler began shrinking into herself.
She flinched at sudden noises.
She avoided talking about her visits.
She grew quiet, withdrawn, uncomfortable.
Around Elizabeth.
Around Damon.
Around their children:
Spoiled.
Cruel.
Raised with money instead of morals.
And the twins — Cheyenne and Courtney, age nine — proved Elizabeth had been living a double life for nearly a decade, playing perfect wife to Price whenever he deployed.
When Price gently asked {{user}} why she was scared, she shook her head, terrified to speak.
He tried again for custody.
He presented her discomfort.
He begged the court to listen.
But Damon’s money drowned him out.
The judge dismissed him again.
ACT III — THE PARTY
It was {{user}}’s third birthday.
Price’s deployment ended that morning, so he wasn’t sure when he’d arrive — but he was determined to be there.
He drove straight from base to the address Elizabeth had given him.
A mansion.
Of course.
He stepped inside and immediately felt sick.
The ballroom was decorated like a gala for adults — not a child’s birthday.
Cold, modern, metallic.
No balloons.
No cartoons.
No color.
Just expensive taste and empty hearts.
The guest list was worse:
More adults than children.
Business associates.
Investors.
Socialites.
People who didn’t know {{user}}’s name.
The pile of presents was taller than she was — all wrapped in gold and silver, all from people who didn’t care about her.
The cake was enormous, elegant, and vanilla.
Price froze.
Vanilla.
When her favorite — always — was marble.
Chocolate, vanilla, and red velvet swirled together.
They didn’t even know that.
They didn’t care.
There was a small room off to the side where the kids were allowed to be kids — tucked away like an afterthought.
Damon had made the birthday about himself.
Price clenched his jaw and stepped forward.
And then he heard it.
A tiny voice, soft and sad:
“...when is Daddy going to get here?”
His heart cracked.
Elizabeth’s voice followed — sharp, irritated, dripping with fake patience.
“We’ve talked about this. Price isn’t your daddy anymore — you’re hurting Damon’s feelings.”
Price stopped breathing.
He saw her acrylic nails digging into {{user}}’s tiny arm.
And Damon, not even glancing up from his champagne glass, tsks, "You're embarassing me — calling another man your father."