Chapter 1
I knew something was wrong before my key touched the lock.
Lily was screaming inside.
Not whining.
Not tantrum crying.
Screaming.
“No! Mommy!”
My purse hit the floor.
I ran through the hall and into the living room.
Then my heart stopped.
My two-year-old daughter was pinned to the floor.
Diane, my mother-in-law, had one arm across Lily’s chest and a small brown bottle pressed to her mouth.
Lily kicked.
Cried.
Choked.
“DIANE!”
Diane spun toward me.
Lily coughed hard, her face red and wet with tears.
I crossed the room and ripped the bottle out of Diane’s hand.
“What did you give her?”
Diane stood like I had interrupted tea.
“Calm down. She wouldn’t stop crying.”
Lily gasped.
Her tiny hands grabbed my blouse.
“Mommy…”
Her breathing sounded wrong.
Too tight.
Too thin.
I scooped her into my arms and dialed 911 with shaking fingers.
“What was in that bottle?”
Diane rolled her eyes.
“Something to help her settle.”
“You drugged my two-year-old?”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
That was when Ryan walked downstairs.
My husband looked from me to his mother.
I expected panic.
I expected him to run to Lily.
Instead, he frowned at Diane.
“Mom, what happened?”
I screamed, “She forced Lily to drink something!”
Ryan sighed.
“Emily, Mom wouldn’t hurt her.”
“Our daughter can barely breathe!”
Lily wheezed against my chest.
Diane reached for the bottle.
“Give me that.”
I pulled it back.
“No.”
For the first time, fear flashed across her face.
Then Lily whispered, “Grandma gives it at night.”
Ryan went completely still.
I looked down.
“What did you say, baby?”
Diane snapped, “She’s two. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.”
But Lily pointed weakly toward the locked cabinet beside the kitchen.
“Daddy medicine.”
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Ryan.
“What is inside that cabinet?”
He said nothing.
The paramedics arrived moments later.
They took Lily from my arms and placed an oxygen mask over her face.
One paramedic examined the bottle.
His expression changed.
“Ma’am, where did this come from?”
Before I could answer, Diane grabbed her purse and moved toward the door.
A police officer blocked her.
The paramedic looked at me.
“This prescription is not for your daughter.”
I turned the bottle over.
The name on the label made the room tilt.
Claire Whitman.
May you like
Ryan’s first wife.
The woman he told me had died five years ago.
