Chapter 6
The first person I called was Lily's regular babysitter.
Her name was Angela.
She had worked with our family since Lily was a baby.
I trusted her completely.
But she'd been unavailable during my Atlanta trip, which was why Nia had offered to take care of everything.
When Angela answered, I tried to keep my voice steady.
"Did Nia ever ask you to watch Lily while I was out of town?"
There was a pause.
"Which trip?"
"Atlanta. Three days in June."
Angela hesitated.
"Marcus, I thought you knew."
My heart stopped.
"Knew what?"
"She asked me to pick Lily up from a woman named Brenda."
I sat down.
"Brenda who?"
"I don't know her last name."
My throat tightened.
"Where?"
"An apartment near the old shopping center."
I stared at the wall.
"Why were you picking her up?"
Angela's voice became worried.
"Nia told me she'd had an emergency and needed me to bring Lily home."
"When?"
"Sunday afternoon."
I closed my eyes.
Nia had returned from her hotel that evening.
She had greeted me at the airport with Lily beside her.
I remembered how tired Lily looked.
Nia had said they'd spent the entire weekend playing.
"Angela, what condition was Lily in?"
The silence on the other end frightened me.
"She seemed upset."
"How upset?"
Angela lowered her voice.
"She cried when I picked her up."
I felt sick.
"Why?"
"She kept asking for you."
I pressed my hand against my forehead.
"Was she hurt?"
"I didn't see any injuries."
That was something.
But it didn't answer the question that mattered.
"Did she tell you what happened?"
Angela hesitated.
"She said she didn't like the apartment."
I swallowed.
"Anything else?"
"She asked whether she could stay with me until you came home."
I closed my eyes.
My little girl had been frightened in a stranger's apartment.
And I had been sitting in a hotel conference room, thinking she was safe.
"Angela, thank you for telling me."
"Marcus, I'm so sorry."
I took a breath.
"You didn't know."
After the call, I contacted David.
He helped me arrange for the information to be shared with the appropriate authorities.
I didn't want to question Lily repeatedly.
Dr. Harris had already explained how important it was to avoid making her relive frightening experiences.
Instead, I focused on finding the adults involved.
Within two days, investigators identified Brenda.
She was Nia's cousin.
Forty-six years old.
Unemployed.
Living in a small apartment across town.
When investigators contacted her, she initially refused to speak.
Then she agreed to provide a statement.
I wasn't present for the interview.
But later, I received an authorized summary of the information relevant to Lily's safety.
Brenda admitted that Nia had left Lily with her for most of the weekend.
She claimed she hadn't known I was unaware of the arrangement.
She said Nia had promised to return within a few hours.
Instead, Nia stayed away for nearly three days.
I felt physically sick.
Brenda also admitted that she had struggled to care for Lily.
She had no children's supplies.
No appropriate sleeping arrangements.
And very little food in the apartment.
I covered my face.
My daughter had spent a weekend in a stranger's home while Nia enjoyed a luxury hotel stay.
I wanted to scream.
But there was more.
Brenda had saved messages from Nia.
One said:
Keep the kid quiet. Marcus doesn't need to know.
Another instructed Brenda not to answer calls from me.
And a third said something that made my blood run cold.
Tell her Daddy is too busy for her.
I stared at the message.
Too busy.
Those two words explained so much.
Why Lily had stopped running to me after work.
Why she apologized for asking me to play.
Why she always asked whether I was tired before requesting a bedtime story.
Nia hadn't only made my daughter afraid of being hungry.
She had tried to convince her that I didn't want her.
That evening, I sat beside Lily while she colored.
She was drawing a house with a bright yellow roof.
A little girl stood beside a man.
Both were smiling.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Are you going away again?"
I swallowed.
"Sometimes I may need to travel for work, but I'll always make sure you're with someone safe."
She nodded.
Then asked quietly, "Will you tell me first?"
My chest tightened.
"Always."
She looked up.
"Promise?"
I held out my little finger.
"Promise."
She wrapped hers around mine.
Then smiled.
I wanted to tell her I knew what had happened in Atlanta.
I wanted to apologize a thousand times.
But I remembered Dr. Harris's advice.
So I simply said, "I love spending time with you, Lily."
She smiled.
"I love you too."
Then she returned to her drawing.
For the next several weeks, I built our days around routines.
Breakfast together.
School drop-off.
Dinner at six.
Bedtime stories.
Sometimes we cooked.
Sometimes we ordered pizza.
Sometimes we sat on the living room floor building castles from blocks.
I made sure Lily knew that accidents weren't disasters.
If she spilled juice, we cleaned it.
If she broke a crayon, we found another.
If she cried, I held her.
And slowly, she stopped looking over her shoulder.
Then one Friday afternoon, David called.
"Marcus, Nia has retained an attorney."
I sat down.
"What does she want?"
"She's threatening to bring a civil claim against you."
I almost laughed.
"On what grounds?"
"She alleges you made false accusations and damaged her reputation."
I rubbed my forehead.
"Is she serious?"
"Apparently."
I took a breath.
"What's our response?"
"We document everything and let the evidence speak."
I nodded.
Then David continued.
"She's also demanding compensation for what she calls her contributions to your household."
My jaw tightened.
"She was living in my home."
"I know."
"She had access to my accounts."
"I know."
"And she mistreated my daughter."
"Marcus, stay focused. We have substantial evidence, but we still follow the legal process."
I closed my eyes.
He was right.
Anger wouldn't protect Lily.
Careful action would.
A week later, the child-protection investigation reached an important stage.
The agency confirmed concerns about neglectful caregiving and inappropriate food restriction during Nia's supervision.
The matter was referred for further legal review.
I was informed that Nia had been contacted regarding the allegations.
She denied wrongdoing.
Then she did something I never expected.
She contacted my mother-in-law.
Jasmine's mother.
Evelyn.
And told her that I had been neglecting Lily.
When Evelyn called me, her voice was shaking.
"Marcus, what is going on?"
My stomach dropped.
"What did Nia tell you?"
A pause.
"She says Lily has been unhappy since Jasmine died."
I felt a sharp pain in my chest.
Then Evelyn continued.
"She says you're too busy to take care of her."
I closed my eyes.
Nia was using the one person whose opinion could hurt me almost as much as Lily's.
The mother of my late wife.
The woman who had trusted me with her granddaughter.
"Evelyn, please come over."
She hesitated.
"Why?"
"Because you deserve to hear the truth from me."
A long silence followed.
Then she said, "I'll be there tomorrow."
I ended the call.
And for the first time in weeks, I felt genuinely afraid.
Not of Nia.
May you like
Not of court.
But of losing the trust of someone who still carried Jasmine's love in her heart.
