CHAPTER 3
My sister Emily came out of her bedroom as soon as she heard Daniel.
Her face tightened.
“Did you tell him you were here?”
“No.”
Daniel knocked again.
“Rachel.”
Rebecca was still on my phone.
“Do not open that door,” she said.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Emily grabbed her own phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
Daniel heard us moving.
“I just want to talk.”
I walked closer but stayed several feet from the door.
“How did you find me?”
Silence.
Then he said, “You always go to Emily when you’re upset.”
That answer somehow made me feel worse.
He hadn’t tracked me.
He simply knew my habits.
For years I had mistaken being known for being loved.
“Leave.”
“Rachel, please.”
His voice cracked.
I almost opened the door because that sound was familiar.
It was the voice he used after arguments.
The voice that made me soften.
Then I remembered the bank.
“You tried to empty Ava’s account today.”
No answer.
I continued.
“Rebecca already knows.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because you don’t understand the company.”
“I understand numbers.”
“The money was temporary.”
I laughed once.
“You took over one hundred thousand dollars.”
“I was putting it back.”
“With what?”
“My next project.”
“What next project?”
Silence.
Emily stood beside me with the police dispatcher on speaker.
Daniel lowered his voice.
“You’re ruining me.”
“No, Daniel.”
My hand stopped shaking.
“You did that yourself.”
He hit the door with his palm.
Emily jumped.
“Rachel!”
“I’m fine.”
Daniel sounded furious now.
“You went through my office. You hired people behind my back. You froze accounts that affect my business.”
“They affect Ava.”
“She is my daughter.”
“That does not make her money yours.”
“You don’t get to tell me how to take care of my own child.”
That sentence almost stunned me.
Then sirens sounded outside.
Daniel heard them too.
For several seconds there was silence.
“You called the police?”
“Yes.”
His voice became cold.
“This is what you want?”
“I want you to leave.”
“You’ll regret this.”
The words were quiet.
Emily heard them.
So did the dispatcher.
Daniel left before officers reached the apartment.
One officer took my statement while another searched the parking lot.
They advised me to document everything.
Rebecca did more than advise.
By evening, she had filed for a temporary protective order based on Daniel’s appearance at Emily’s apartment and his threat.
I hated every second of it.
Not because I thought the order was unnecessary.
Because I had spent years telling myself Daniel was not that kind of man.
That phrase suddenly seemed foolish.
What kind of man?
A man who lied?
He had.
A man who stole from his daughter?
He had.
A man who forged my signature?
He had.
A man who arrived uninvited and hit a door while demanding access to me?
He had.
Facts mattered more than the husband I kept remembering.
The next morning, Ava called again.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Did you call the cops on Dad?”
“Yes.”
“He said he went there because you wouldn’t talk to him.”
“I told him to leave.”
“He said you’re making him look dangerous.”
I took a breath.
“Ava, I’m not going to argue with you about your father.”
“Well, everyone is arguing about you.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“Grandma’s crying. Uncle Matt says you’re trying to take the house.”
“I’m not.”
“Dad says—”
“Ava.”
I hated how tired my voice sounded.
“Your father is going to say many things. You need to decide what you believe based on facts.”
She became quiet.
“What facts?”
I looked toward Emily’s balcony.
Maybe protecting Ava from the truth was no longer protecting her at all.
“Ask him how much money is left in your education trust.”
Nothing.
Then she laughed nervously.
“What?”
“Ask him.”
“My trust has like three hundred thousand dollars.”
“That’s what he told you?”
“Yes.”
My throat tightened.
The latest statement showed less than ninety thousand before the bank froze activity.
“Ava, ask him to show you the current balance.”
She stopped breathing for a moment.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you deserve to see your own financial records.”
“You think Dad took my money?”
“I know money was withdrawn.”
“How much?”
“I’m not discussing exact numbers without your attorney or another responsible adult present.”
“My attorney?”
“You may need one.”
She hung up.
An hour later, she called again.
She was crying.
Not dramatic tears.
Not barbecue tears.
These were raw.
“He won’t show me.”
I closed my eyes.
“He says I’m too young to understand.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He got mad when I asked.”
“I’m sorry.”
“He said you put this idea in my head because you hate him.”
“I don’t hate him.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
“Because somebody should have stopped it months ago.”
Her breathing became uneven.
“I have college applications next year.”
“I know.”
“That money was from Grandpa.”
“I know.”
“He promised me.”
My anger toward her suddenly tangled with something else.
She was still the girl I had driven to practice.
Still the child who once fell asleep against my shoulder during a movie before waking and pretending it never happened.
“Listen to me.”
She sniffed.
“You are not responsible for fixing any of this.”
She whispered, “Neither are you.”
That almost broke me.
Before I could answer, a man’s voice sounded behind her.
“Ava.”
Daniel.
The line shifted.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Ava.”
“Stop!”
Then the call ended.
I immediately texted her.
If you feel unsafe, call 911 or go to a neighbor.
She didn’t respond.
For nearly an hour, I stared at my phone.
Finally, a message arrived.
I’m okay.
Then another.
But I found something.
I typed back.
What?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then Ava sent me a photograph.
It showed a handwritten note.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
It belonged to Ava’s mother, Laura.
Laura had died when Ava was ten.
Across the top were four words.
If anything happens to me.
May you like
Ava’s next message made my blood run cold.
Dad hid this in his safe.
