[CHAPTER 3]
Daniel sat down because his legs seemed unable to hold him.
I didn't know what to say.
Ten minutes earlier, I'd been thinking about restraining orders and hospital discharge papers.
Now my husband was staring at his hands as if they belonged to someone else.
“Maybe the lab made a mistake,” I said.
He laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“The same lab you trusted to prove Sophie was mine?”
The words could have sounded cruel.
They didn't.
He sounded lost.
I looked at Sophie.
She slept with one hand wrapped around the stuffed rabbit a nurse had found for her.
“Call them tomorrow.”
“I already did.”
“What did they say?”
“That a database match isn't a legal paternity test.”
“Then it could be wrong.”
“It could.”
Daniel rubbed his face.
“But they said the relationship estimate is strong.”
I thought about Margaret lunging for the envelope.
Her terror.
Her obsession with blood.
Sophie's words.
Daddy had bad blood too.
“What do you know about Victor Hale?”
Daniel stared at the floor.
“He and Dad started Bennett-Hale Development together.”
“I thought Richard founded the company alone.”
“So did I.”
That surprised me.
Daniel continued.
“Victor left before I was born. Dad bought his shares.”
“Why?”
“No idea.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where?”
“Arizona, I think.”
Before I could answer, someone knocked.
A police detective stepped in.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
I stood.
“I'm Detective Laura Grant.”
She glanced at Daniel.
“Mr. Bennett, I'll need to speak to your wife privately.”
Daniel nodded.
He didn't argue.
That was new.
He walked into the hallway.
Detective Grant closed the door.
“We recovered the chain.”
“Good.”
“And several guests gave statements.”
“What did they say?”
“That your daughter was already outside when you arrived.”
My chest tightened.
“So people knew?”
“At least three adults saw her through the glass.”
I stared at her.
“And nobody helped?”
“They claim they believed it was some kind of game.”
I looked at Sophie.
“A game.”
The detective's expression softened.
“I'm sorry.”
She opened a folder.
“There is something else.”
I waited.
“Your mother-in-law's attorney says the chain wasn't locked.”
“It was.”
“We found the padlock broken near the porch.”
“Because we broke it.”
“I know.”
She nodded.
“But Mrs. Bennett claims the chain had only been looped around the post.”
“She's lying.”
“We're investigating.”
I felt anger rise.
“Ask Sophie.”
“We will, through a child forensic interviewer.”
“She already told the doctor.”
“That helps.”
Detective Grant paused.
“There may also be video.”
I stared at her.
“Margaret has cameras everywhere.”
“She says the porch camera malfunctioned.”
“Of course.”
“But one guest was livestreaming from inside the house shortly before you arrived.”
Hope hit me so quickly it hurt.
“Did it show Sophie?”
“We don't know yet. We're trying to obtain the original recording.”
“Please.”
“We will.”
She looked toward the hallway.
“Mrs. Bennett, do you feel safe returning home with your husband tonight?”
I looked through the glass panel.
Daniel sat alone with his head bowed.
Nine years of marriage lived in that hallway.
Christmas mornings.
Late-night takeout.
Arguments over bills.
Sophie sleeping between us during thunderstorms.
And one slap.
One terrible, deliberate slap.
But the slap wasn't the only thing I couldn't forget.
He had looked at our daughter.
And chosen Margaret.
“No,” I said.
The word surprised me with how easily it came.
“I don't.”
Detective Grant nodded.
“I can help you contact an advocate.”
“My sister lives twenty minutes away.”
“Will your husband know where you are?”
“Yes.”
“Are you afraid he'll follow you?”
I thought carefully.
“No.”
That was true.
I wasn't afraid Daniel would hunt me down.
I was afraid I would forgive him before I understood what forgiveness would cost.
When Detective Grant left, Daniel returned.
I told him.
“Sophie and I are staying with Rachel.”
He closed his eyes.
“For how long?”
“I don't know.”
“Claire.”
“Don't.”
He stopped.
“I need space.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don't.”
He looked at me.
“I watched you choose your mother over Sophie.”
His jaw trembled.
“I know.”
“I need to figure out whether I can ever trust you again.”
He nodded.
“I'll leave the house.”
“That doesn't fix it.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don't know what else to say.”
For once, I believed him.
The next morning, Rachel arrived.
My older sister took one look at Sophie's bruises and turned away.
I saw her wipe her eyes before she came back.
“Hey, birthday girl.”
Sophie gave her a tiny smile.
Rachel kissed her forehead.
“I have pancakes waiting.”
“With blueberries?”
“An irresponsible amount of blueberries.”
Sophie smiled again.
It was the first real smile I'd seen since the porch.
I almost cried.
Daniel carried our bags to Rachel's car.
He didn't try to hug Sophie.
He crouched a few feet away.
“Can Daddy say goodbye?”
Sophie looked at me.
I nodded.
She looked back at him.
“Okay.”
Daniel's eyes filled.
“I love you.”
Sophie whispered, “Okay.”
He flinched.
Then she asked the question that destroyed him.
“Are you mad at me?”
Daniel's face collapsed.
“No.”
“Grandma said you would be.”
“No, sweetheart.”
He shook his head hard.
“Daddy is mad at himself.”
Sophie hugged her rabbit.
“You hit Mommy.”
“I did.”
“That's bad.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed.
“It was very bad.”
“Are you going to do it again?”
“No.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Never.”
Sophie didn't answer.
Rachel took her hand.
We left.
That afternoon, Daniel called me.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“What?”
His breathing sounded strange.
“I found the picture.”
I stood from Rachel's kitchen table.
“What picture?”
“The one Sophie saw.”
My heart began pounding.
“Where?”
“My mother's office.”
“You went back?”
“With the police.”
“Daniel.”
“Claire, listen.”
I heard paper moving.
“It's an old photograph.”
“Of Victor?”
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Maybe thirty-eight years.”
“And?”
Daniel went silent.
“Daniel?”
“There are two people in it.”
“Victor and Margaret?”
“Yes.”
Something in his voice scared me.
“What are they doing?”
“They're standing outside a hotel.”
I closed my eyes.
“That proves nothing.”
“No.”
He inhaled sharply.
“But there's writing on the back.”
“What does it say?”
Daniel read it slowly.
“To Margaret. For the night we stopped pretending. I wish you could choose me. V.”
I didn't speak.
Daniel continued.
“And there's a date.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What date?”
He whispered it.
May you like
I knew immediately why his voice was shaking.
The picture had been taken nine months before Daniel was born.
