Chapter 7
The former employee's name was Carla Bennett.
I recognized it immediately.
Lily had mentioned Miss Carla.
The woman who sometimes cleaned beside her.
Angela explained that Carla had contacted authorities after learning Natasha's business was being investigated.
She wanted to provide information.
But she was frightened.
Natasha still owed her several weeks of wages.
And Walter had threatened legal action if she discussed company matters.
I felt anger rise.
Another person silenced.
Another person frightened.
Another person made to believe speaking up would ruin their life.
Carla agreed to meet investigators.
Later, through the proper process, I learned what she had reported.
Lily had been brought to several cleaning jobs.
At first, Carla believed my daughter was simply accompanying her stepmother.
But then Natasha began assigning her tasks.
Vacuuming.
Dusting.
Scrubbing sinks.
Carrying supplies.
When Carla objected, Natasha told her Lily was learning responsibility.
She insisted I knew.
That part hurt most.
My name had been used to justify what was happening.
Carla said Lily sometimes looked exhausted.
Once, she found my daughter crying in a laundry room.
When she asked what was wrong, Lily whispered that she was hungry.
Carla gave her a sandwich.
Natasha became furious.
I closed my eyes when I heard that.
Even a stranger had noticed my daughter needed food.
While I was home every evening believing everything was fine.
The investigator also arranged for Lily to receive a medical examination.
Her doctor documented the bruises, fatigue, and other concerns.
A counselor began working with her.
The first session was difficult.
Lily didn't want to go.
She clung to my hand outside the office.
"Daddy, am I in trouble?"
I knelt.
"No, princess."
She looked frightened.
"Then why do I have to talk to another grown-up?"
I gently brushed a braid away from her face.
"Because sometimes our hearts need help healing too."
She thought about that.
Then whispered, "Like when Mommy died?"
My throat tightened.
"Yes, baby."
She nodded slowly.
"Okay."
Her counselor was a kind woman named Dr. Renee Coleman.
She let Lily choose where to sit.
She didn't rush her.
She explained that Lily could ask questions.
And that she didn't have to pretend she was happy.
Afterward, Lily seemed tired.
But she also looked relieved.
On the drive home, she asked for ice cream.
I almost cried.
For months, she'd stopped asking for things.
Now she was asking again.
I bought her chocolate ice cream with sprinkles.
She ate it in the car.
Then looked at me.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"Can I go to art class?"
My chest tightened.
"Of course."
She smiled.
"Real art class?"
I swallowed.
"Real art class."
Her eyes filled with excitement.
And in that moment, I understood how much Natasha had taken from her.
Not only food.
Not only rest.
Childhood.
The freedom to ask.
The freedom to play.
The freedom to believe adults would protect her.
I promised myself I'd help her get those things back.
Meanwhile, the financial investigation continued.
The forensic accountant identified additional payments connected to Heritage Family Services.
The total had grown to more than eighty thousand dollars.
Some transfers appeared to come from my company.
Others were linked to accounts Walter controlled.
Several documents bore signatures I disputed.
Daniel explained that the evidence would be reviewed carefully.
I wanted answers immediately.
But he reminded me that moving too quickly could damage the case.
So I waited.
I cooperated.
And I kept every document.
Then one afternoon, Patricia called me.
I almost ignored it.
She had sat at my table while Lily was outside.
She had looked away when I confronted her.
Part of me never wanted to hear her voice again.
But I answered.
"Marcus?"
Her voice sounded different.
Tired.
Shaken.
"Patricia."
She took a breath.
"I need to tell you something."
I remained silent.
She began crying.
"Walter lied to me."
My stomach tightened.
"About what?"
"The business."
I sat down.
She explained that Walter had told her Heritage Family Services was a legitimate investment.
He said Natasha was helping manage it.
He claimed the payments came from consulting work.
But after the investigation began, Patricia found documents in Walter's desk.
Bank statements.
Loan agreements.
And copies of papers carrying my signature.
She had confronted him.
He became angry.
Then told her to destroy the records.
My chest tightened.
"Did you?"
Her voice broke.
"No."
I closed my eyes.
"Where are they?"
"I gave copies to an attorney."
For the first time, I felt a small amount of hope.
Patricia continued.
"Marcus, I owe Lily an apology."
I looked toward my daughter's drawings on the refrigerator.
"Yes, you do."
She began crying harder.
"I thought Natasha was being strict."
I swallowed.
"You saw Lily outside."
"I know."
"You knew she hadn't eaten with us."
Patricia whispered, "Yes."
My voice shook.
"And you did nothing."
She didn't defend herself.
That surprised me.
Instead, she said, "I was wrong."
I closed my eyes.
For a moment, I thought about forgiveness.
Then I remembered Lily asking whether she could have a second helping of chicken.
I took a breath.
"Patricia, I appreciate you cooperating."
She sniffled.
"But Lily's safety comes before any relationship with this family."
"I understand."
I ended the call.
Then sent Daniel a message.
Patricia had evidence.
Real evidence.
May you like
And for the first time, someone from Natasha's family was willing to tell the truth.
But I didn't know whether it would be enough.
