Chapter 3
Emily was sitting up in bed when I walked into her room.
Her face was still pale, her eyes red-rimmed. But when she saw me, she reached out, and I hurried to her side.
“Mom,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Grace—”
“She’s fine,” I said, squeezing her hand. “She’s in the nursery. The doctors say she’s going to be okay.”
Emily closed her eyes. Tears spilled from beneath her lids.
“I thought I was going to die,” she said. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t move. My arms felt like lead. I tried to unlock the door, but I couldn’t lift my arm.”
I sat on the edge of her bed. “The detective saw the video, Emily. From the garage camera. We saw everything.”
She opened her eyes. “Brandon?”
I nodded. “He and Nicole. They locked you in. The detective took them to the station for questioning.”
Emily’s hand tightened around mine. “He gave me something.”
I froze. “What?”
“Before we left the house,” she said, her voice trembling. “He handed me a bottle of water. Said it was hot out, that I should stay hydrated. I drank it. And then… everything got fuzzy. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t control my body.”
My blood ran cold.
“He drugged you.”
Emily nodded slowly. “I remember being in the car. I remember him leaning in. But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. It was like I was watching everything happen from outside my own body.”
A doctor walked into the room just then, holding a clipboard.
“Mrs. Hale,” she said. “I have Emily’s toxicology report back.”
I stood up. “What did you find?”
The doctor’s face was serious. “We found a significant amount of a sedative in her system. It’s commonly used in sleep medications, but at this dosage, it would cause extreme drowsiness, confusion, muscle weakness—”
“Loss of motor control,” I finished.
The doctor nodded. “Exactly. Whoever gave this to her knew what they were doing. At this level, she wouldn’t have been able to save herself or her baby.”
Emily started crying.
“He was going to let me die,” she whispered. “He was going to let both of us die.”
I pulled her into my arms. “He’s not going to hurt you again. I promise you that.”
Just then, a nurse knocked on the door.
“Mrs. Carter? There’s someone here to see you. A woman who says she’s your mother-in-law.”
Emily stiffened.
Eleanor Carter.
Brandon’s mother.
The woman who’d never thought Emily was good enough for her precious son.
The woman who’d called Emily “too plain” and “too soft” behind her back.
The woman who’d once told me, “Brandon could have married anyone. He chose your daughter. She should be grateful.”
“Tell her I’m not seeing anyone,” Emily said.
But it was too late.
The door swung open.
Eleanor Carter swept into the room like a hurricane, wearing a tailored suit and carrying an expensive handbag. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her makeup flawless.
She didn’t even look at Emily first.
She looked at me.
“Margaret,” she said, her voice like ice. “What have you done?”
I stood my ground. “I saved my daughter’s life. And your son tried to end it.”
Eleanor’s lips tightened. “That’s not how I heard it. Brandon told me Emily’s been suffering from postpartum depression. That she’s been having episodes. That she locked herself in that car as some kind of cry for attention.”
“Your son is lying,” I said.
“Is he?” Eleanor turned to Emily. “Emily, dear, you’ve been under so much stress. The baby, the move, Brandon’s new business… it’s all been too much, hasn’t it? You just need to rest. And Brandon needs you to tell the police the truth. That this was all a misunderstanding.”
Emily stared at her mother-in-law.
“A misunderstanding?” she said, her voice rising. “He drugged me, Eleanor. He locked me in a car with my baby in ninety-five-degree heat. I almost died. Grace almost died. And you’re calling it a misunderstanding?”
Eleanor waved a hand dismissively. “You’re confused. You’re emotional. That’s understandable. But Brandon is a good man. A loving husband. He would never hurt you or that baby.”
“Then why did he run off with Nicole?” I asked.
Eleanor’s face twitched. “Nicole is… a business associate. Brandon has been under a lot of pressure. He made a mistake. But he loves you, Emily. He loves Grace. And he needs you to stand by him.”
“I’m not standing by anyone who tried to kill me,” Emily said.
Eleanor’s demeanor changed.
The warmth vanished from her face.
She leaned down, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper.
“Emily, listen to me carefully. If you press charges against Brandon, you will lose everything. The house, the cars, your lifestyle. And Grace? Do you really think a court will give custody of a baby to a woman who’s been diagnosed with postpartum depression? Who locks herself in cars? Brandon has resources. He has the best attorneys money can buy. He will destroy you. And he will take that baby.”
Emily went pale.
I stepped between them.
“Get out,” I said.
“Margaret—”
“Get out of this room, or I will call security and have you removed.”
Eleanor stared at me for a long moment.
Then she picked up her handbag.
“You’re making a terrible mistake,” she said. “Both of you.”
She walked out.
Emily buried her face in her hands.
“She’s right,” she whispered. “What if she’s right? What if he takes Grace?”
I lifted her face, made her look at me.
“Listen to me, Emily. You are not alone. You have me. You have the video. You have the toxicology report. And you have the truth. Brandon is not going to take your baby. Not while I’m breathing.”
My phone buzzed.
It was the detective.
“Mrs. Hale,” he said. “Brandon’s attorney just filed an emergency motion for temporary custody of Grace Carter. They’re claiming Emily is mentally unstable and a danger to the child.”
I closed my eyes.
Eleanor hadn’t been bluffing.
“When is the hearing?” I asked.
“Tomorrow morning,” he said.
I looked at my daughter, at the fear in her eyes.
“We’ll be ready,” I said.
I hung up.
Emily was already crying.
“He’s going to take her,” she said. “Mom, he’s going to take my baby.”
I held her tight.
“Not tomorrow,” I said. “Not ever.”
But inside, I was terrified.
Because Eleanor Carter was right about one thing.
Brandon had money.
May you like
Brandon had power.
And he was playing for keeps.
