Chapter 4
I asked Diane Foster to come inside.
She declined until I confirmed that Nia was comfortable speaking with her.
I immediately told her that Nia would not be questioned alone without my understanding of the process and my attorney's guidance.
Diane nodded.
"That's reasonable. I can explain the purpose of my visit first."
We sat in the living room.
Vanessa appeared from the hallway wearing an expression of exaggerated concern.
"Oh, thank goodness you're here," she told Diane. "I've been terrified for months."
I stared at my wife.
She had apparently decided that the woman who had tried to send my daughter away would now perform the role of a frightened stepmother.
Diane opened her folder.
"We received a concern regarding family conflict and possible emotional distress."
Vanessa nodded rapidly.
"Nia has become increasingly unpredictable. I only wanted professional help."
"Then why did you tell the school that Marcus had requested her removal?" I asked.
Vanessa shot me an angry look.
"That is not what happened."
I placed the email correspondence on the coffee table.
"Then you can explain why the school recorded three calls from you requesting an urgent placement."
Diane looked between us.
"Mr. Reed, I will need copies of these documents."
I handed her the folder containing the application, the counselor's response, and the email confirming the placement had been placed on hold.
She studied the pages.
Her expression grew more serious with every paragraph.
"This is concerning," she said.
Vanessa leaned forward.
"Those papers don't tell the whole story."
"Then please tell me the whole story," Diane replied.
Vanessa launched into a familiar explanation.
She described Nia as jealous, disobedient, and emotionally unstable.
She claimed the girl had destroyed property, threatened the younger children, and refused to accept discipline.
I listened carefully.
Some of the incidents she described had never happened.
Others were ordinary childhood mistakes that Vanessa had transformed into major offenses.
When she claimed Nia had deliberately damaged the birthday cupcakes, I interrupted.
"Olivia witnessed what happened. She said you knocked them over."
Vanessa's face tightened.
"That child misunderstood."
"And what about the counselor's report?"
"I was trying to get help."
"By using a false signature?"
Diane raised a hand.
"Let's remain focused on verifiable information."
She asked Vanessa whether she had signed the application on my behalf.
Vanessa hesitated.
"I might have completed a preliminary form."
"Did you have written authorization from Marcus Reed?"
"No."
"Did you tell the school he had personally requested the placement?"
Vanessa's lips parted.
Then she looked at me.
"You were always complaining about how difficult things had become."
"Complaining about work," I replied. "Not my daughter."
Diane wrote something in her notes.
After the meeting, she asked to speak with me privately.
Vanessa objected immediately.
"Why? I'm her stepmother."
Diane remained calm.
"I need to establish each adult's understanding of the situation. I'll also need to speak with Nia in an appropriate setting, following the relevant safeguards."
I agreed to arrange a meeting through Rebecca.
Once Diane left, Vanessa followed me into the kitchen.
"You've turned everyone against me."
I opened the refrigerator.
"No, Vanessa. People are asking questions because the documents don't match your story."
"You think you're some kind of hero now?"
I closed the refrigerator.
"I think I should have listened to my daughter sooner."
Her expression twisted.
"You have no idea how much I've done for you."
I stared at her.
"What have you done for Nia?"
She didn't answer.
I walked away.
That evening, I took Nia to a small diner near her school.
She ordered pancakes even though it was nearly seven o'clock.
For the first time in weeks, she ate without repeatedly glancing toward the door.
Halfway through dinner, she asked me something I hadn't expected.
"Daddy, if Vanessa leaves, will you still love her?"
I put down my fork.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because you loved her before."
I thought carefully before answering.
"Sometimes adults love someone and later discover that the relationship isn't healthy. But whatever happens between me and Vanessa, it will never change how much I love you."
Nia nodded slowly.
Then she looked down at her plate.
"I used to think if I was better, she'd stop being angry."
I reached across the table and held her hand.
"You were never the problem."
She began to cry silently.
I moved beside her and held her until she was ready to finish eating.
When we returned home, Vanessa was sitting in the living room.
She had placed a framed photograph of our wedding on the coffee table.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
I told Nia to go upstairs and promised I would check on her shortly.
Then I sat across from my wife.
Vanessa stared at the wedding photograph.
"I know I made mistakes."
I waited.
"I was under pressure. Your daughter and I never really bonded, and I felt like I was competing with a ghost."
I looked at the photograph.
"Danielle was Nia's mother. She wasn't competing with you."
"You always defended her."
"She was a child."
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
"I wanted to be important in this family."
"You could have become important by loving Nia."
"I tried."
"No. You tried to make her disappear."
She flinched.
For several seconds, the room was silent.
Then Vanessa said something that changed the entire conversation.
"I didn't want her sent away forever."
I leaned forward.
"What does that mean?"
She wiped her cheeks.
"I wanted her gone long enough for things to settle down."
"You arranged a residential placement without my consent."
"It was supposed to be temporary."
"You submitted a false assessment."
"I didn't write it!"
The words escaped her before she could stop them.
I stared at her.
"Who did?"
Vanessa covered her mouth.
I slowly stood.
"Who wrote the report, Vanessa?"
She shook her head.
"I can't tell you."
"Why?"
"Because if I tell you, you'll destroy everything."
I walked toward the stairs.
"Then perhaps everything deserves to be destroyed."
Behind me, she whispered my name.
I didn't turn around.
That night, I locked my bedroom door and placed the documents in a secure folder.
At midnight, my phone lit up with a message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
The message contained a photograph of Nia standing outside her school.
Beneath it were eight words.
YOUR WIFE ISN'T THE ONLY PERSON INVOLVED.
I stared at the screen until it dimmed.
May you like
Then another message arrived.
ASK WHO PAID FOR THE REPORT.
