CHAPTER 15
Police came before I did.
That was the only reason I did not drive straight through three red lights.
By the time I reached the house, Rachel had taken Lily to Susan’s apartment on Detective Reed’s instruction.
I was grateful.
I did not want Lily watching police carry her rabbit away again.
The package sat on our kitchen table inside an evidence bag.
The tiny chain around the stuffed animal looked almost ridiculous.
Small.
Cheap.
But I understood exactly what it meant.
Someone wanted Lily afraid.
Again.
Detective Reed wore gloves.
“The original rabbit was released from evidence two weeks ago.”
“To whom?”
He looked at me.
“Vivian’s attorney’s investigator signed for personal property not retained by the state.”
“Brenner?”
“No. Another employee.”
“How did it end up here?”
“We’re tracing it.”
I stared at the package.
“Vivian is in custody.”
“Yes.”
“So someone is still doing things for her.”
“Possibly.”
My chest tightened.
“During the trial.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to break something.
Instead, I called Aaron.
That surprised me.
Months earlier, I would have exploded first and repaired damage later.
Now I recognized the feeling before it controlled me.
Aaron answered.
“I want to drive to the jail and scream at her.”
“Are you going to?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I hate that this keeps reaching Lily.”
“I know.”
“I moved houses.”
“I know.”
“I changed jobs.”
“Yes.”
“I did everything.”
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“You cannot control whether cruel people try cruel things.”
I closed my eyes.
“You can control what happens next.”
I already knew.
Police.
Attorney.
Therapist.
Protect Lily.
Document.
Do not engage.
It sounded boring.
That was the point.
Safety was often boring.
Chaos wanted drama.
I refused to feed it.
Investigators traced the package within twenty-four hours.
Sabrina had arranged it before her arrest.
She gave the rabbit to a friend named Kelly Morse with instructions to mail it during trial week.
Kelly claimed she thought it was a prank.
The prepaid postage had already been purchased.
Sabrina faced additional charges.
More importantly, police found text messages.
Vivian had asked Sabrina months earlier to “keep pressure on Ethan if things go bad.”
That phrase became evidence.
The intimidation pattern was no longer speculative.
It was coordinated.
The judge ordered tighter restrictions on Vivian’s communications from jail.
All non-attorney calls were monitored.
Her access to outside contacts narrowed.
For the first time, the attacks stopped.
The trial continued.
The prosecution showed the jury Vivian’s video.
If Ethan ever tries to leave, he loses more than me.
He loses the only thing he cares about.
I watched Vivian watch herself.
Something shifted in her face.
Maybe she realized how ugly the words sounded outside the privacy of her own control.
Maybe not.
Then the defense began its case.
Vivian testified.
I had not expected that.
Maya leaned toward me.
“This is risky.”
“For whom?”
“Her.”
Vivian walked to the stand.
She cried almost immediately.
She described stress.
Pressure.
Feeling unappreciated.
She said she had loved Lily “like her own child.”
She called the chain incident “a horrible lapse in judgment.”
Then she said the notebook had been therapeutic writing.
The videos?
“Private moments taken out of context.”
The locked room?
“A time-out space.”
My hands shook under the table.
Then her attorney asked about me.
Vivian looked toward the jury.
“Ethan was gone constantly.”
She cried harder.
“I was raising Lily alone.”
That part landed because it contained truth.
“I begged him to travel less.”
Also true.
“He cared more about work.”
Not entirely false.
“I became overwhelmed.”
I stared at her.
There was the story she wanted.
Not innocence.
Victimhood.
Then the prosecutor cross-examined.
She began simply.
“You say you loved Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Did Lily know that?”
Vivian blinked.
“I believe so.”
The prosecutor showed a notebook entry.
Basement threat effective.
“Was threatening the basement an expression of love?”
Vivian swallowed.
“I wrote things when frustrated.”
Another entry.
No rabbit for two nights. Better compliance afterward.
“Was depriving a grieving child of her comfort toy an expression of love?”
Vivian started crying.
“You don’t understand what I dealt with.”
The prosecutor waited.
“What did you deal with?”
“She screamed.”
“She was four.”
“She refused food.”
“She was four.”
“She lied.”
“She was four.”
Vivian’s voice rose.
“You keep saying that!”
The courtroom froze.
The prosecutor did not move.
“Yes.”
She paused.
“Because she was.”
Vivian realized what had happened.
Too late.
Her attorney asked for a break.
The judge denied it.
The prosecutor continued.
“Did you contact Mark Ellison?”
“Yes.”
“The man who killed Ethan’s wife?”
“I wanted closure.”
“Why did you ask whether Ethan had threatened him?”
Vivian hesitated.
“I was worried.”
“Why did you ask him to sign a statement saying Ethan was unstable?”
“He misunderstood.”
“Did you draft a false company document?”
“No.”
“Forensic evidence places the file on your laptop.”
“I didn’t send it.”
“That was not my question.”
Vivian’s composure collapsed piece by piece.
Finally, the prosecutor showed her the line about my mother.
Margaret supportive.
“What did that mean?”
Vivian stared.
“She liked me.”
“Did you believe Margaret would dismiss Lily’s complaints?”
“No.”
The prosecutor displayed another entry.
Margaret handled the whining exactly like I knew she would.
Vivian stopped speaking.
That silence said more than anything.
The defense rested the next day.
Closing arguments began.
I did not attend the final morning.
I went with Lily to the park.
Maya thought I was crazy.
Maybe I was.
But I had spent months allowing Vivian’s case to dictate our lives.
That day, I chose Lily.
We fed ducks.
She climbed a small wall.
She fell and scraped her knee.
Then she looked at me.
For one second, fear flashed through her face.
I crouched.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
“Am I in trouble?”
My heart cracked.
“For falling?”
She nodded.
“No.”
I cleaned the scrape.
“You’re not in trouble for accidents.”
She stared at me.
Then smiled.
“Can I try again?”
“Yes.”
She climbed again.
Higher this time.
My phone vibrated in my pocket.
I ignored it until she reached the top.
Then I checked.
Maya.
Jury has the case.
I looked at Lily.
She raised both arms.
“Daddy! Look!”
May you like
“I’m looking!”
And for once, I really was.
