Chapter 4
I stared at Natasha.
"What business account?"
She leaned against the staircase railing.
"You heard me."
My stomach tightened.
"Explain."
Natasha folded her arms.
"I've been keeping this household afloat while you spend every waking hour at work."
I almost laughed.
"Keeping it afloat?"
She lifted her chin.
"You have no idea how expensive things are."
I stared at her.
I paid the mortgage.
The utilities.
The insurance.
The groceries.
The school fees.
Every major household expense came from my accounts.
Natasha had always insisted her business income was separate.
I respected that.
I never demanded access to her earnings.
But now she was using money as a defense against what she'd done to Lily.
I looked at Renee.
"Take Lily upstairs, please."
My sister nodded.
Lily grabbed my arm.
"Daddy?"
I knelt.
"What's wrong?"
Her eyes filled.
"Are you going to fight?"
My heart broke.
"No, princess."
I gently touched her cheek.
"I'm going to make sure you are safe."
She looked toward Natasha.
Then nodded.
Renee took her upstairs.
When their footsteps disappeared, I turned back toward my wife.
"Tell me about the account."
Natasha sighed.
"Marcus, I don't have to explain every financial decision."
I shook my head.
"You took my daughter to work without telling me."
"She was learning responsibility."
"You made her clean strangers' bathrooms."
"Stop exaggerating!"
My voice rose.
"YOU PUT BRUISES ON HER ARM!"
Natasha froze.
For the first time, her expression changed completely.
"What?"
I stepped closer.
"Lily showed us."
She looked away.
Then laughed nervously.
"Children bruise easily."
I stared at her.
"You told her she'd be punished for breaking a glass."
Natasha crossed her arms.
"She was careless."
I felt something inside me turn cold.
Not because I stopped being angry.
Because I realized arguing with her wasn't going to help.
I took out my phone.
"I'm calling my attorney."
She scoffed.
"Of course you are."
Then she stepped forward.
"Just remember that I have rights in this house too."
I nodded.
"We'll deal with that legally."
She looked surprised.
I continued.
"But you will not be alone with Lily."
Natasha's expression hardened.
"You can't keep me from my own stepdaughter."
I looked directly at her.
"Watch me protect my child."
Then I called my attorney, Daniel Brooks.
He had handled several business matters for me.
When I explained the situation, his voice became serious.
"Marcus, are you and Lily safe right now?"
"Yes."
"Good. Preserve everything. Don't delete messages or financial records."
I nodded.
He advised me to contact the appropriate child-protection authorities and obtain medical documentation of Lily's injuries.
He also told me not to make assumptions about housing or ownership rights.
We would need to handle the separation properly.
I agreed.
I wanted Natasha gone.
But more than that, I wanted a process that would protect Lily without creating another crisis.
By the time I ended the call, Natasha was packing again.
She came downstairs with a suitcase.
Her face was red.
"I hope you're proud of yourself."
I didn't answer.
She looked toward the ceiling.
"All this because a little girl didn't want to follow rules."
My chest tightened.
"Don't blame Lily."
She laughed bitterly.
"You've spoiled her since her mother died."
The words cut through me.
For six years, I'd tried to raise Lily while grieving Jasmine.
I made mistakes.
I worked too much.
I sometimes missed school events.
But I loved my daughter more than anything.
Natasha had used that love against me.
She convinced me Lily needed discipline because I was too soft.
She said I was raising a helpless child.
And I believed her enough to ignore warning signs.
I looked at my wife.
"Leave."
She stared.
Then turned toward the door.
But before walking out, she said something strange.
"You think you're the only one who's been paying for this family?"
I frowned.
"What?"
She smiled coldly.
"Ask your daughter where the envelopes went."
My stomach dropped.
"What envelopes?"
Natasha opened the front door.
"Good luck figuring it out."
Then she left.
I stood frozen.
Envelopes?
I went upstairs.
Renee was sitting beside Lily on the bed.
My daughter had changed into pajamas.
Her blue blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.
I knelt beside her.
"Princess, can I ask you something?"
She nodded.
"Natasha mentioned envelopes."
Lily's face changed.
My heart tightened.
"What envelopes?"
She looked at Renee.
Then back at me.
"The ones in your office."
I stared at her.
"What?"
Her voice trembled.
"She makes me take them."
I couldn't breathe.
"From my office?"
Lily nodded.
"She says they're hers."
I felt sick.
My office contained business records.
Contracts.
Client payments.
Invoices.
And several sealed envelopes I kept in a locked drawer.
I looked at Lily.
"How did she get into my office?"
My daughter began crying.
"She told me you wanted me to help."
I gently held her hand.
"Help with what?"
"She made me find your spare key."
My chest tightened.
Then Lily whispered something that changed everything.
"Sometimes she makes me write your name on papers."
I stared at her.
My ten-year-old daughter.
Being used to open my office.
Being used to handle documents.
May you like
Being made to copy my signature.
And suddenly, I understood that Natasha's cruelty might be connected to something much bigger than a stolen dinner.
