Chapter 3
I stared at the notebook on Dad's phone.
My heart began racing.
I knew exactly which one it was.
A small pink diary with a silver butterfly on the cover.
Grandma Evelyn had given it to me on my eighth birthday.
She told me I could write anything inside it.
Happy things.
Sad things.
Things I wasn't ready to say out loud.
For almost a year, that diary had been the only place where I felt completely honest.
And now Vanessa was holding it.
Dad looked at me.
"Maya?"
I swallowed.
"She wasn't supposed to have that."
He paused the recording.
"Did she take it?"
I nodded.
"From under my mattress."
Dad's jaw tightened.
"When?"
"A few weeks ago."
"Why?"
I looked down.
"She said she needed to know what I was writing about her."
My father stared at me.
"And what did you write?"
I began crying.
He quickly touched my shoulder.
"Sweetheart, you don't have to tell me."
I shook my head.
"It's bad."
His face softened.
"What is?"
"The things I wrote."
He sat beside me.
"Did you write something because you were upset?"
I nodded.
"Then that's okay."
I wiped my cheeks.
"But I wrote that I wished Vanessa would disappear."
Dad became very still.
I continued before he could speak.
"I wrote that I wished it could just be you and me again."
My voice broke.
"And I wrote that sometimes I hated her."
I covered my face.
"I'm sorry."
Dad gently moved my hands away.
"Maya, listen to me."
I looked at him.
"Having angry feelings doesn't make you a bad child."
I sniffled.
"But hatred is bad."
"Being hurt can make people feel angry. What matters is how we handle those feelings."
I studied his face.
"You're not disappointed?"
He shook his head.
"No."
I began crying harder.
He wrapped his arms around me.
"Sweetheart, you were trying to find somewhere safe to put your pain."
I held him tightly.
For the first time in weeks, I felt as though I could breathe.
Then a loud crash came from upstairs.
We both jumped.
Dad stood.
"Stay here."
He walked toward the staircase.
I heard Vanessa shouting.
"Where is my suitcase?"
Dad stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
"What's happening?"
"Your daughter moved my things!"
I froze.
I'd never touched her suitcase.
Dad answered calmly.
"Maya is downstairs with me."
Vanessa appeared at the top of the stairs.
She looked furious.
"Then somebody has been going through my belongings."
Dad crossed his arms.
"Pack what you need for tonight. We'll arrange the rest later."
She stared at him.
"You really think you're throwing me out?"
"I'm telling you that Maya needs to be safe."
Vanessa laughed.
"Safe? From me?"
Dad didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at the phone in his hand.
"There's more footage."
Her smile vanished.
"What?"
"I haven't finished checking the recordings."
For a moment, Vanessa looked terrified.
Then she forced herself to laugh.
"Go ahead. You'll find nothing."
She disappeared into the bedroom.
Dad returned to the dining room.
He picked up my plate.
"Let's put this away for now."
I looked at the chicken.
"Can I save it?"
His expression softened.
"Of course."
He placed the food in a container.
Then he opened the refrigerator.
I watched him remove the childproof latch.
He held it in his hand for several seconds.
Then he dropped it into the trash.
"You never need permission to have food when you're hungry," he said.
I nodded.
But I didn't move.
Dad turned.
"Maya?"
I looked toward the refrigerator.
"Even when you're at work?"
His face crumpled.
"Especially then."
I started crying again.
Dad hugged me.
That night, Vanessa left with two suitcases.
Before walking out, she stopped beside the front door.
She looked at Dad.
"You're making the biggest mistake of your life."
He stood beside me.
"No."
His voice was quiet.
"My mistake was not noticing sooner."
Vanessa's eyes moved toward me.
For a moment, I saw the same cold expression she'd used whenever Dad wasn't home.
Then she smiled.
"Enjoy your victory, Maya."
I stepped behind Dad.
He immediately moved in front of me.
"Don't speak to her."
Vanessa opened the door.
Then she left.
The house became silent.
I listened to her car pulling away.
Only when the sound disappeared did I realize how tightly I'd been holding my breath.
Dad knelt beside me.
"She's gone."
I nodded.
"Are you okay?"
I wanted to say yes.
But my chest felt tight.
My stomach hurt.
And I couldn't stop shaking.
Dad noticed.
He picked up his phone.
"I'm calling Grandma."
Twenty minutes later, Grandma Evelyn arrived.
She wore a purple cardigan and carried a small overnight bag.
The moment she saw me, her smile disappeared.
"Oh, my baby."
I ran into her arms.
She held me tightly.
Dad told her what had happened.
He showed her the recordings.
Grandma watched silently.
Then she turned toward him.
"Marcus."
He looked at her.
"You need to take Maya to a doctor."
My stomach tightened.
"Am I sick?"
Grandma crouched.
"Not necessarily, sweetheart. But we want to make sure you've been getting what your body needs."
Dad nodded.
"I'll take her tomorrow."
Grandma looked at my father.
"Tonight would be better if she's weak or unwell."
He studied my face.
Then he noticed something.
"Maya, when did you last have a full dinner?"
I thought carefully.
I couldn't remember.
Dad's eyes filled.
He looked toward Grandma.
"We're going now."
I panicked.
"Did I do something wrong?"
Dad immediately shook his head.
"No, baby."
He took my hand.
"We're going because I love you."
At the hospital, a kind doctor examined me.
She asked about my meals.
My energy.
My stomachaches.
Whether I sometimes felt dizzy.
I answered quietly.
Dad sat beside me the entire time.
The doctor explained that I needed proper meals and follow-up care.
She also said the adults would help make sure I was safe.
Dad listened carefully.
Then he asked something that made my heart ache.
"Could this have affected her health?"
The doctor looked at him gently.
"Repeatedly missing meals can affect a growing child. We'll evaluate Maya's nutritional health and make a plan."
Dad lowered his head.
"I'm sorry."
I reached for his hand.
He squeezed it.
Later, while Grandma spoke with the nurse, Dad opened the camera recordings again.
He scrolled through several days.
Then stopped.
His expression changed.
I leaned closer.
"What is it?"
He didn't answer.
On the screen, Vanessa was speaking on the phone in our kitchen.
Her voice was clear.
"Don't worry," she said. "Marcus never notices anything."
A pause.
Then she laughed.
"The girl is getting weaker every week. Eventually, he'll believe she's just a difficult child."
Dad stared at the screen.
I felt cold all over.
Then Vanessa said something else.
Something that made my father slowly stand up.
"Once he agrees to send her away, everything will be ours."
May you like
And suddenly, the terrible dinners weren't just cruel punishments.
They were part of something much bigger.
