Page 90 of Faking with Three

“Do you think polyamory is setting a bad example for younger audiences?”

The words sting, and for a second, I feel frozen. The chaos, the noise, the flashing lights—it’s too much. I try to stepback, but they close in tighter, their cameras and microphones crowding my space.

And then, suddenly, there’s an arm around my shoulders. Ethan. He pulls me close, his body shielding me from the reporters as he steers me away from the fray.

“That’s enough,” he says firmly, his voice cutting through the noise. “We’re not answering questions.”

The reporters don’t stop, their voices following us as Ethan guides me toward the courthouse steps.

Marcus and Jax are waiting at the base of the steps, both of them tense and watching the scene unfold. Jax’s eyes dart to me the moment we reach them.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and laced with concern.

I nod, though my heart is still racing. “Yeah. Thanks to Ethan.”

Ethan releases his hold on me, his expression hard as he glances back at the reporters still buzzing behind us. “They’re relentless,” he mutters.

“We knew they’d be here,” Marcus says, his tone clipped. “Let’s just get inside.”

The courtroom is quiet except for the faint shuffle of papers and the ticking of a clock somewhere behind us. We’ve been waiting for Jax’s case to be called for the past thirty minutes. But this uncomfortable silence is still better than the mess going on outside.

Jax hasn’t spoken since we sat down, his gaze fixed on the front of the room. I follow his line of sight and feel my stomach tighten when I see her—Charlie Green.

“Who’s that with Charlie?” I whisper to Jax, nodding toward the woman seated next to her. Charlie looks different today—not her usual composed and smug self, but slightly uncomfortable, her posture rigid as she avoids looking in our direction.

“That’s Charmaine,” Jax says, his voice low. He glances at me briefly before his eyes shift back to them. “Adam’s mother.”

My gaze shifts back to Charmaine. From what I’ve heard, she’s hardly around. She sits tall, composed, her face unreadable. It’s hard to imagine her and Jax as anything more than strangers.

Charlie gets up from her seat. The door opens behind us, and a few more people shuffle in, drawing my attention. I follow her out, catching up to her in a few strides.

“How could you do that?” I hiss, glaring at Charlie. “Leaking Adam’s name to the press? You had no right.”

Charlie finally looks at me, her discomfort flickering into annoyance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I had nothing to do with that.”

“Don’t lie,” I snap, my voice rising slightly. “We all know it was you.”

“Me? It could have been you for all I know,” she hisses.

I scoff. “You mean to say we willingly allowed gossip fanpages to run rumors on us? And involve a child in it? Excuse me but we haven’t stooped so low as you have.”

Her eyes narrow, and she opens her mouth to respond, but before she can say anything, the bailiff calls, “Case number 1142, Jaxon Thompson versus Charlie Green.”

Charlie looks at me and we return back to the room. Jax exhales slowly, stands, and adjusts his jacket. I reach out, touching his arm briefly. Charlie and Charmaine stand as well, moving to their table.

The judge, an older man with a no-nonsense demeanor, looks over the documents in front of him. “Mr. Thompson,I understand you are pursuing a defamation suit against Ms. Green. However,” he glances up, adjusting his glasses, “there is also a pending suit filed by Ms. Green accusing you and your associates of threatening her.”

A ripple of murmurs spreads through the room. Jax stands tall, his voice steady. “Your Honor, we have video evidence that disproves Ms. Green’s accusations. The footage shows?—”

The judge cuts him off with a raised hand. “We’ll get to the evidence in due time. However, this case isn’t just about defamation or threats. It involves the well-being of the child.” He leans back slightly, his expression hardening. “In any case, the boy cannot be subjected to those sorts of conditions.”

I can’t stop myself—I speak without thinking. “He won’t.”

The judge’s head snaps toward me, his eyes narrowing. “Young woman, this is not your turn to speak. Do not interrupt the proceedings.”

Heat floods my face as I sink back into my seat, pressing my lips together. Jax glances back at me briefly, his expression unreadable, before turning back to the judge.

The judge continues. “As far as I can see, your unconventional relationship is not an environment suitable for a child. I cannot grant visitation rights unless those disruptive elements are removed.”

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