Chapter 4
I woke up to sunlight streaming through the hospital window.
And my mother sitting in the chair beside the bed, crying.
“Mom,” I said, my voice rough with sleep.
She stood so fast the chair scraped the floor.
She was at my side in two steps, her hands hovering like she was afraid to touch me.
Like I might break.
“My baby,” she whispered. “Oh, my beautiful baby.”
She leaned down and hugged me carefully, her arms going around my shoulders, avoiding my stomach.
She smelled like her perfume—Chanel No. 5—and home.
I cried then.
I hadn’t cried since the ambulance.
But with my mother holding me, it all came out.
The fear.
The betrayal.
The humiliation.
She let me cry.
She stroked my hair and whispered that she was here, that she loved me, that Daniel would pay for every single thing he’d done.
When I finally stopped, she pulled back and wiped my face with a tissue.
Her eyes were red, but her jaw was set.
That was the Steel side of her coming out.
My mother’s family was old Texas money.
They’d built an empire on oil and land and not backing down from a fight.
Daniel had forgotten that when he married me.
He’d seen a girl who loved art galleries and charity galas and Sunday brunch.
He’d mistaken kindness for weakness.
Big mistake.
“Your father filled me in on everything,” she said. “The mistress. The attack. The fake DNA test.”
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
“Mom—”
“I’ve already spoken to our lawyer,” she continued like I hadn’t spoken. “He’s the best in the state. Actually, he’s the best in the country. He’s already filed the divorce papers. They’ll be served to Daniel before he leaves the jail this morning.”
“Already?”
“Your father and I didn’t sleep last night,” she said. “We made calls. We pulled records. Olivia—Daniel has been siphoning money from your joint accounts for six months. Almost four hundred thousand dollars.”
I sat up.
“What?”
“Cash withdrawals. Wire transfers to an account in the Caymans. Payments to a private investigator who was following you.”
“Following me?”
“Since March,” she said. “He was looking for anything. A man. A fight. A mistake. Anything he could use to make you look unfit.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
March.
That was when I’d started seeing the fertility specialist again.
After the third miscarriage.
Daniel had been so supportive.
He’d come to every appointment.
He’d held my hand.
And all the while, he’d had someone following me.
Taking pictures.
Waiting for me to do something wrong.
“The private investigator,” I said. “Did he find anything?”
“Nothing,” my mother said, and there was a flicker of pride in her eyes. “Because you did nothing wrong. You went to doctor’s appointments. You went to the grocery store. You met your sister for lunch. You lived your life. Daniel spent four hundred thousand dollars trying to destroy you, and he came up with nothing.”
“So he made up the DNA test instead.”
“Exactly.” She reached for my hand. “He’s been planning this for a long time, baby. He knew if he couldn’t find dirt on you, he’d have to create it. And Vanessa—she was just the final piece.”
“Where is Vanessa?” I asked.
My mother’s mouth tightened.
“Still in jail. Her bail was set at fifty thousand. Daniel’s lawyer bailed him out an hour ago. He didn’t even mention her.”
Of course he didn’t.
Daniel was looking out for Daniel.
Vanessa was yesterday’s news.
“Mom,” I said. “I need to talk to her.”
My mother blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“I need to talk to Vanessa. Before she gets a lawyer who tells her not to say anything. Before Daniel convinces her to take all the blame.”
“Olivia, she kicked you in the stomach.”
“I know.” I squeezed her hand. “But she’s pregnant, Mom. With Daniel’s baby, probably. And he’s already abandoned her. She’s alone. She’s scared. And she knows things. Things Daniel doesn’t want us to know.”
My mother studied my face.
She was quiet for a long time.
“You’re sure about this?”
“I’m sure.”
She sighed.
“All right. I’ll call the detective. See if we can arrange something. But Olivia—if she says no, we drop it. And if she says yes? Your father goes with you. No exceptions.”
“Deal.”
The doctor came in an hour later and cleared me to leave.
No internal damage.
Baby was perfect.
Just take it easy, she said.
No heavy lifting.
No stress.
I almost laughed.
No stress.
Right.
My father was waiting by the exit with the car.
He’d brought a blanket for me.
A bottle of water.
My favorite lemon drops from the candy shop downtown.
Small things.
Things that said I love you without having to say the words.
We drove to his house in River Oaks.
The big brick house I’d grown up in.
Security gates.
Camera at every corner.
Daniel would be stupid to try anything here.
Stupid, but not incapable.
I’d learned not to underestimate him.
The guest room was ready.
My clothes were already in the closet.
My favorite pillows on the bed.
My mother had even bought new prenatal vitamins and put them on the nightstand.
I sat on the edge of the bed and looked around.
It felt like coming home after a very long trip.
“Detective Alvarez called,” my father said from the doorway. “Vanessa agreed to talk to you. One hour. No lawyers. At the station. Two o’clock.”
I looked at the clock.
Twelve thirty.
An hour and a half.
“Thank you.”
“Olivia.” He came in and sat beside me. “I know you think she’s another victim. And maybe she is. But she still hurt you. She still hurt my grandson. Don’t go in there feeling sorry for her. Go in there getting answers. Understand?”
“I understand.”
“Good.” He stood. “Get some rest. I’ll come get you at one.”
He left.
I lay back on the bed.
My mind raced.
What did Vanessa know?
What had Daniel told her?
What had he made her do?
And more importantly—what was he planning next?
Because Daniel was free.
He was out of jail.
He was angry.
And he was cornered.
People like Daniel didn’t go down quietly.
They took as many people with them as they could.
I closed my eyes.
But I didn’t sleep.
I couldn’t.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Vanessa’s heel coming at me.
I saw Daniel smiling over his wine glass.
I heard my father’s voice saying 0.0%.
One thirty came too fast.
My father drove me to the station.
The downtown police station was gray and imposing.
Detective Alvarez met us at the entrance.
“She’s in interview room two,” Alvarez said. “I’ll be right outside. One way mirror. If anything goes wrong—if she gets violent, if she threatens you—you yell, and we’re in there in two seconds. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Your father can wait in my office.”
My father squeezed my shoulder.
“I’m right down the hall,” he said. “Remember what I said.”
“I remember.”
Alvarez led me down a long hallway.
Past holding cells.
Past offices with men in suits yelling into phones.
She stopped at a door marked INTERVIEW 2.
“Ready?” she asked.
I nodded.
She opened the door.
Vanessa was sitting at a metal table.
Her hair was a mess.
She was wearing the same clothes from last night—wrinkled, stained with wine.
Her left eye was bruised where my father had hit her.
Her lip was split.
She looked up when I walked in.
Hate flashed in her eyes.
Then something else.
Defeat.
Alvarez closed the door behind me.
I sat across from her.
The table was cold under my hands.
Neither of us spoke for a long time.
She was the first to break.
“Did the baby die?” she asked.
Her voice was rough.
Hoarse.
“No,” I said. “He’s fine.”
She nodded.
Looked down at her hands.
“Good.”
Another silence.
“Daniel didn’t bail me out,” she said.
“I know.”
“His lawyer called me an hour ago. Said Daniel is denying everything. Says I attacked you on my own. Says he tried to stop me. Says he’s the real victim here.”
I wasn’t surprised.
“Are you surprised?” I asked.
She let out a bitter laugh.
“Last night? Yes. This morning? No.” She looked up at me. Her eyes were wet. “He told me you were dying. That you had six months. That he was staying with you out of pity. That the baby was his, but he couldn’t leave you until… until…”
“Until he had the fake DNA test,” I finished.
She stared at me.
“You know about that?”
“I know everything,” I said. “The money. The private investigator. The fake test. The Cayman account. I know it all, Vanessa. And so do the police. And so do my parents’ lawyers.”
Her face went pale.
“I didn’t know about any of that,” she whispered. “I swear to God. He told me he was setting up our future. That the money was for us. For the baby.”
She rested a hand on her stomach.
Just like I had last night.
“I’m four months,” she said. “A boy. He was so happy. He bought a crib. A little blue blanket. He said we’d get married the second the divorce was final.”
Her voice cracked.
“I left my fiancé for him. I was supposed to get married in June. I had a dress. A venue. Everything. And Daniel told me he loved me. That I was the only real thing in his life. That you were just a ghost he couldn’t get rid of.”
I felt a strange mix of emotions.
Anger, yes.
This woman had hurt me.
But also… pity.
Because I’d been her.
Five years ago.
Standing at the altar, believing every word that came out of Daniel’s mouth.
“He told me the same things,” I said quietly. “Before we got married. Before the miscarriages. Before he decided I wasn’t enough anymore.”
Vanessa looked at me.
Really looked at me.
For the first time, she didn’t see the enemy.
She saw herself.
“He’s good, isn’t he?” she said. “He makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. Like you’re special. And then one day you wake up and you realize… you’re just another toy he’s tired of playing with.”
“He’s been planning to leave me for over a year,” I said. “He’s been taking money. Following me. Building a case. You were never the reason, Vanessa. You were just the excuse.”
A tear slid down her bruised cheek.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“Now,” I said, “you have a choice.”
I leaned forward slightly.
“You can keep protecting him. You can take the fall for the assault. You go to prison for five to ten years. You have your baby in a cell. And Daniel walks free with my money, my house, and probably a new woman by Christmas.”
May you like
She flinched.
“Or,” I continued, “you help me take him down.”
