Chapter 2
I didn't let Vanessa take the phone.
But I didn't grab it from her either.
My daughter was watching every movement.
The last thing she needed was to see another frightening confrontation.
"Put the phone down, Vanessa."
She stared at me.
"Excuse me?"
"Put it down."
Her fingers tightened around it.
"You're acting ridiculous."
I looked at Nia.
She had stopped eating.
Her shoulders were hunched.
I immediately softened my voice.
"Baby, keep eating. You're not in trouble."
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
"Of course she isn't. Apparently I'm the criminal now."
I didn't answer.
I took my daughter by the hand.
"Come upstairs with me."
Vanessa stepped toward the doorway.
"Marcus, we need to talk."
"We will."
"Now."
I looked directly at her.
"Not before I make sure Nia is okay."
She moved aside.
I carried Nia upstairs to her bedroom.
The moment I closed the door, she began crying again.
"I'm sorry, Daddy."
I sat on her bed.
"Sweetheart, you have nothing to apologize for."
She shook her head.
"Vanessa said you would be disappointed."
"About what?"
Nia stared at the carpet.
"About the video."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What video?"
She rubbed her eyes.
"The one she made me do."
I held her hands.
"Tell me what happened."
Nia took a shaky breath.
"She took me into Mommy Danielle's room."
I swallowed.
"Okay."
"She opened Mommy's big wooden box."
I knew the box.
Danielle had kept family photographs, old birthday cards, and important documents inside it.
It was one of the few things I never moved after she died.
"What happened next?"
Nia looked frightened.
"Vanessa took out papers."
"What papers?"
"I don't know."
She sniffed.
"Then she put me in front of her phone."
I felt cold.
"What did she ask you to say?"
Nia looked at me.
"She said I had to say I didn't want to live here anymore."
My heart seemed to stop.
I stared at her.
"She made you say that?"
Nia nodded.
"She said if I didn't, she would lock me in the laundry room again."
I closed my eyes.
Then I opened them and pulled my daughter into my arms.
"I am so sorry."
She clung to me.
"She told me you were tired of taking care of me."
Tears filled my eyes.
"That's not true."
"She said you wanted a new family."
I felt something inside me break.
"Nia, listen carefully."
She looked up.
"You are my family."
Her bottom lip trembled.
"You are my daughter. Nothing and nobody will ever change that."
She began crying harder.
I held her until she calmed down.
Then I asked another question.
"Did she make more than one video?"
Nia nodded.
"Lots."
My chest tightened.
"What did you say in them?"
"That I wanted to go somewhere else."
She wiped her cheeks.
"That I was unhappy."
I swallowed.
"Anything else?"
She hesitated.
"She told me to say you shouted at me."
I stared at her.
"Did she?"
Nia nodded.
"But you don't."
I kissed her forehead.
"Thank you for telling me the truth."
She looked worried.
"Are you mad?"
"I'm angry about what happened to you."
"At me?"
"Never at you."
She leaned against me.
For a while, I simply held her.
Then I noticed something on her wrist.
A faint reddish mark.
I gently turned her hand.
"Baby, what happened here?"
She immediately pulled away.
"Nothing."
I kept my voice calm.
"Did someone hurt you?"
Her eyes filled.
"Vanessa grabbed me when I tried to get out of the laundry room."
I felt sick.
I had spent years protecting my daughter from every danger I could imagine.
And the danger had been living in our house.
I took out my phone.
I called my sister, Tasha.
She lived fifteen minutes away.
She was a nurse and the person Nia trusted most after me.
Tasha answered immediately.
"Marcus?"
"I need you."
Her tone changed.
"What happened?"
"Something's wrong with Nia."
"Is she hurt?"
"I don't know how bad it is."
"I'm coming."
I ended the call.
Then I asked Nia whether she wanted a bath and clean pajamas.
She nodded.
I helped her gather her things and stayed nearby while she got ready.
As I waited outside the bathroom, I listened to the water running.
My mind kept returning to the same question.
How had I missed this?
I worked long hours managing a commercial electrical contracting company.
Some weeks, I left before sunrise and returned after Nia was asleep.
Vanessa assured me everything was fine.
She sent photographs of Nia eating breakfast.
She told me about school activities.
She even complained that Nia was becoming spoiled because I bought her too many treats.
I believed I had married someone who cared for my daughter.
Now I wondered how carefully Vanessa had constructed that illusion.
A knock came at the bedroom door.
It was Vanessa.
"Marcus, open the door."
I stepped into the hallway and closed it behind me.
"What?"
She folded her arms.
"You're overreacting."
I stared at her.
"Did you lock Nia in the laundry room?"
She rolled her eyes.
"She needed a timeout."
"With the door locked?"
"She wouldn't stay put."
I took a breath.
"Did you deny her food?"
"She had snacks earlier."
"That's not what I asked."
Her expression hardened.
"You're letting a child turn you against your wife."
I looked at her.
"Did you record videos of my daughter saying she wanted to leave?"
For the first time, Vanessa went silent.
Then she said, "Children say all kinds of things."
I felt my stomach drop.
"Why did you record them?"
She crossed her arms.
"Because I was concerned about her behavior."
I stared at her.
"And why did you take her into Danielle's room?"
Her face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
"You're imagining things."
"Nia described the wooden box."
Vanessa looked away.
I stepped back.
"Do not go into her room."
She scoffed.
"Marcus—"
"Do not speak to her until we understand what happened."
She stared at me.
Then she smiled coldly.
"You think you can keep her from me?"
I didn't answer.
Because her words sounded less like a question than a warning.
When Tasha arrived, she immediately noticed Nia's behavior.
My normally affectionate daughter approached her cautiously.
Then she burst into tears.
"Auntie Tasha!"
Tasha lifted her.
"Oh, baby."
I watched them embrace.
Then I quietly explained what Nia had told me.
Tasha's face hardened.
"We need to make sure she's safe tonight."
I nodded.
"I'm not leaving her alone with Vanessa."
Tasha looked toward the hallway.
"Have you called anyone?"
"Not yet."
"Marcus, this is serious."
"I know."
She lowered her voice.
"Nia needs a medical evaluation, and this needs to be reported."
I looked at my daughter.
She was sitting on the bed hugging her stuffed rabbit.
I hated that protecting her now meant asking her to talk about frightening things again.
But I understood.
We couldn't simply pretend this was a family argument.
That evening, I called the child protection hotline and explained what Nia had disclosed.
I also contacted her pediatrician's office for guidance.
The person taking the report listened carefully and told me what information was needed.
I gave every detail.
The food restriction.
The locked room.
The mark on her wrist.
The videos.
When I finished, my hands were trembling.
Tasha stayed beside Nia.
Then I went downstairs.
Vanessa was sitting on the sofa.
She looked perfectly calm.
"Finished making your calls?"
I stared at her.
She smiled.
"You should have talked to me first."
I took a breath.
"I did."
She leaned back.
"And now?"
"Nia and I are staying somewhere else tonight."
Her smile vanished.
"What?"
"I'm taking my daughter somewhere safe."
Vanessa stood.
"You can't just walk out on your wife."
I looked at her.
"You should have thought about our marriage before treating my child this way."
She stared at me.
Then her expression changed.
Something calculating entered her eyes.
"You really don't understand what's happening, do you?"
I felt a chill.
"What are you talking about?"
Vanessa slowly smiled.
"Marcus, you might want to check what your late wife left behind."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
She looked toward the staircase.
May you like
"Because Danielle's papers are worth a lot more than you think."
And for the first time, I realized Vanessa might not have married me only because she wanted a husband.
