Chapter 7
The case changed after that.
Detectives reopened Emily’s death investigation.
The medical examiner requested records.
Dr. Porter disappeared.
Vanessa hired a criminal defense attorney and filed for divorce before I could.
Her petition accused me of emotional abuse, parental alienation, and “weaponizing a grieving child.”
Grace read it at my kitchen table and laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because rage needed somewhere to go.
“She wants control of the story,” Grace said.
“She always did.”
Vanessa also requested temporary access to the house, claiming she needed personal belongings.
Grace said no without a police escort.
That escort saved us.
When officers took Vanessa through the bedroom, she ignored her closet and walked straight to the guest room.
Emily’s old office.
She reached for the closet panel.
Ramirez stopped her.
“What are you looking for?”
“My jewelry.”
“In the wall?”
Her attorney told her to stop talking.
Too late.
Behind the panel, investigators found a second compartment.
I had missed it.
Inside was a small black notebook.
Vanessa’s handwriting.
Dates.
Amounts.
Initials.
E.H.
D.P.
The initials repeated beside dollar figures.
E.H. had to be Emily Hale.
D.P. had to be Dr. Porter.
At the back was one line that made my vision go red.
Once Emily is gone, Daniel will need someone to manage Lily.
Manage.
Not love.
Manage.
Vanessa stared at the notebook like she wanted to set it on fire with her eyes.
Ramirez arrested her for obstruction and evidence tampering.
The poisoning charge would come later.
But handcuffs were enough to make her mask crack.
She looked at me and smiled.
“You think Emily was perfect?”
I stepped closer.
“No. I think she was alive.”
Her smile vanished.
The search for Dr. Porter lasted four days.
They found her at a private airport outside Phoenix with cash and a fake ID.
She flipped on Vanessa within forty-eight hours.
She admitted giving Vanessa sedatives.
She claimed Vanessa said they were for herself.
Then prosecutors showed the email.
He trusts me now. Emily is becoming a problem.
Dr. Porter began crying.
“She said Emily was unstable. She said the dose would only make her sleep.”
“Did you know Emily died?”
“Yes.”
“Did you report it?”
“No.”
That night, I sat beside Lily’s bed.
She was asleep with Bunny under one arm and a bowl of crackers on the nightstand because Dr. Ellis said removing the fear had to happen slowly.
I watched her breathe.
Then I whispered to the dark, “Emily, I’m sorry.”
Lily stirred.
Her eyes opened.
“Daddy?”
“I’m here.”
“Do you see me?”
My throat closed.
“Yes, baby.”
May you like
She closed her eyes.
“Good.”
