Chapter 4
The holding cell smelled like bleach, old urine, and regret.
Ryan sat on the hard concrete bench, his head in his hands, the cuffs finally off his wrists. They had left red marks, deep and sore, but he barely noticed. His mind was spinning, replaying the last 48 hours over and over again.
The party.
The champagne.
His mom’s speech, thanking him for being the "best son a mother could ask for."
He had turned his phone off right before the cake cutting. Megan had called 17 times. He had seen the missed calls when he turned it back on the next morning, but he had ignored them. She was just being dramatic. She would get over it. She always did.
He had stopped at the gas station on the way home, bought a cheap bouquet of pink carnations and a card that said "World’s Best Mom." He had planned to hand them to her, say he was sorry she had a rough night, and then hold his daughter. He had even practiced the line: "See? Told you you were overreacting."
Instead, he had gotten arrested.
His wife was a lieutenant colonel.
His father-in-law was a four-star general.
His daughter was fighting for her life in the NICU, and it was all his fault.
No.
No, it wasn’t his fault.
Megan had lied to him. She had hidden who she was. She had tricked him into marrying her, pretending to be some quiet, boring freelance editor when she was a powerful military officer with a rich dad. If she had just told him the truth, he would have taken her to the hospital. Of course he would have. He wouldn’t have risked angering a general. He wouldn’t have risked all this.
It was her fault.
All of it.
"Miller!"
The guard banged on the cell door. Ryan jumped.
"You got bail. Your mom’s here."
The door clanged open. Ryan stumbled out, his legs wobbly. He followed the guard down the hall to the front desk, where Margaret was waiting, holding a stack of papers, her face tight with rage. She had changed out of her sequined dress into a tracksuit, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked like she hadn’t slept.
"Mom—" Ryan started, reaching for her.
She slapped him.
Hard.
The sound echoed through the empty lobby. Ryan’s cheek stung, his eyes watering.
"You idiot," she hissed. "You absolute, worthless idiot. You couldn’t keep your wife under control? You couldn’t just lie to her for one more night? Now look at us. I had to take out a second mortgage on the house to pay your bail. Our bank accounts are frozen. The construction company is being audited. That general is trying to ruin us!"
Ryan rubbed his cheek, shocked.
"It’s not my fault! She lied to me! She said her dad sold insurance! How was I supposed to know he ran half the Army?"
Margaret grabbed his arm, her nails digging into his skin, pulling him toward the exit.
"We’re going to fix this. I called my friend Linda—her brother is a lawyer. He’s the best in the state. He says we can countersue. Defamation. Intentional infliction of emotional distress. That Hayes man used his military connections to have you arrested illegally. We’ll ask for ten million dollars. We’ll take everything they have."
Ryan stopped in the parking lot, staring at her.
"Mom—they have the 911 call. They have the medical records. The doctors said I almost killed both of them. How are we going to sue anyone?"
Margaret spun around, her eyes wild.
"Because she lied! She hid her identity! That’s fraud! We can say she tricked you into marriage, that she faked the pregnancy complications to get sympathy, that the general used his power to plant evidence! People hate powerful elites, Ryan! The jury will eat it up! We’ll be the victims here! The poor, hardworking family destroyed by the cold, rich military wife and her tyrant father!"
Ryan wanted to believe her.
He really did.
But he had seen the general’s face. He had seen the federal prosecutors. He had seen the stack of evidence they had laid on the table during his booking: text messages from Ryan to his friends complaining about Megan’s "drama," the doctor’s office records showing Ryan had attended every high-risk appointment, the paramedic photos of Megan on the kitchen floor, covered in bl00d.
They were going to lose.
He knew it.
But he didn’t say that to his mom. He never did. Margaret hated weakness. She had raised him to never admit he was wrong, to never apologize, to always blame someone else. It was the only way she had ever gotten anything in life.
"Okay," he said, getting into her old sedan. "Okay. Let’s call the lawyer. Let’s fight."
Margaret smiled, satisfied. She pulled out of the parking lot, tires squealing.
"Good. That’s my boy. And first thing tomorrow, we’re going to that hospital. We’re going to see that baby. She’s my granddaughter. No general is going to keep me from my own flesh and bl00d. I’ll stand in the lobby and scream all day if I have to. The press will eat it up—poor grandma barred from her sick grandbaby by the evil military man."
Ryan stared out the window at the passing streetlights.
He thought of Megan.
He thought of the first time he met her, at that bar. She had been so pretty, so quiet, so easy to talk to. He had married her because she was safe. Because she didn’t argue. Because she had money to pay for the house and the cars and his mom’s birthday parties. He had never loved her—not really. But he had liked his life with her. He had liked being married. He had liked the idea of being a dad.
Now it was all gone.
Because of one stupid choice.
Because he had chosen his mom’s party over his wife and daughter.
"Mom," he said, his voice small. "What if... what if Lila doesn’t make it?"
Margaret glanced at him, annoyed.
"Don’t be ridiculous. Those preemies always pull through. And even if she doesn’t—well, we can use it. We can say the hospital was negligent. Sue them too. More money."
Ryan stared at her.
For the first time in his life, he wondered if his mom was as wonderful as he had always thought.
But he pushed the thought away.
She was his mom. She was the only one he had left.
They would fight.
May you like
They would win.
They had to.
