Chapter 2
I had never heard my father make the sound that came out of his mouth that night.
It wasn't quite a gasp.
It wasn't quite a growl.
It was the sound of a man realizing that his daughter had been in danger while he believed she was happy.
On the television, Marcus continued speaking.
"How long will it take?"
Evelyn appeared beside him, holding a small prescription bottle.
"The pharmacist said it can cause serious confusion if it's taken improperly. We only need her to look unstable."
My stomach turned.
I recognized the bottle.
Evelyn had brought it to our house two weeks earlier.
She claimed she was suffering from insomnia.
She had left it beside the coffee machine.
At the time, I hadn't thought anything of it.
Now I understood why she had insisted on preparing my evening tea.
"Stop the recording," Marcus demanded.
Nobody obeyed.
His recorded voice continued.
"And after she's evaluated?"
Evelyn smiled.
"We tell everyone she's been having episodes. Your lawyer handles the paperwork while she's too overwhelmed to question anything."
A chair scraped behind me.
My father had moved toward Marcus.
I caught his sleeve.
"Dad."
He looked at me.
For a second, I feared he might do something that would ruin the evidence we had worked so hard to collect.
"Please," I whispered. "Let the police handle it."
His jaw tightened.
Then he slowly stepped back.
Marcus pointed at the television.
"That's edited!"
My father opened his folder.
"We have the original recordings, timestamps, and copies delivered to my attorney."
Evelyn began shaking her head.
"This is a misunderstanding."
I stared at her.
"You brought medicine into my home."
"It was mine!"
"You kept offering me tea."
Her lips trembled.
"I was trying to be kind."
I almost laughed.
Kind.
The woman who had just watched her son smash a plate against my head was talking about kindness.
"You wanted people to think I was losing my mind," I said.
Marcus raised his voice.
"Nia, you're being dramatic."
My father turned toward him.
"Careful."
Marcus lowered his eyes.
Outside, another vehicle pulled into the driveway.
Blue lights flashed across the windows.
I had sent my father a message before dinner.
If I don't call you by nine, come to the house. Bring help.
He hadn't waited until nine.
He had called an attorney, arranged security, and notified the police after receiving the evidence I had sent earlier.
Now two officers entered the dining room.
I could barely believe how relieved I felt.
One officer approached me.
"Ma'am, are you injured?"
I nodded.
"My husband hit me with a dinner plate."
Marcus immediately stepped forward.
"That's not what happened!"
The officer raised a hand.
"Sir, stay where you are."
Marcus stopped.
I explained what had happened.
I showed the broken plate.
The officer photographed the fragments, the chair I had fallen against, and the swelling near my ear.
When I tried to answer another question, the room tilted.
My father caught my elbow.
"Nia?"
"I'm okay."
But I wasn't.
My head throbbed.
The officer called for medical assistance.
Marcus suddenly changed his tone.
"Baby, listen."
I looked up.
He was staring at me with the expression he used whenever he wanted forgiveness.
"I'm sorry about the plate. I lost my temper."
I said nothing.
"We've both been under stress."
My father stepped between us.
"You're not speaking to her again tonight."
Marcus ignored him.
"Nia, think about our marriage."
Our marriage.
I remembered our wedding.
Marcus crying when I walked down the aisle.
His hands trembling as he placed the ring on my finger.
I had believed those tears.
I had trusted those hands.
And now the same hands had struck me.
"I am thinking about our marriage," I said quietly.
His face softened.
"Then come upstairs. We'll talk."
I removed my wedding ring.
His smile vanished.
I placed it on the table beside the transfer papers.
"No."
Evelyn burst into tears.
"Arthur, please don't destroy our family over one argument."
My father looked at her.
"You tried to destroy my daughter."
She looked away.
The officers separated Marcus and Evelyn for questioning.
My father helped me gather my handbag.
As we approached the door, Marcus shouted after me.
"Nia! You're making a terrible mistake!"
I turned.
"No, Marcus."
I looked at the shattered plate.
"My mistake was believing you loved me."
His expression hardened.
"You won't get away with humiliating me."
An officer stepped toward him.
"Sir, that's enough."
Outside, cool night air touched my aching face.
An ambulance waited near the driveway.
My father wrapped his coat around my shoulders.
He had always seemed invincible when I was little.
Tonight, his hands were trembling.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
I shook my head.
"Don't."
"I should have known."
"You couldn't have known everything."
He looked at me.
"Did he ever hurt you before?"
I wanted to say no.
Then I remembered the arguments.
The bruising grip around my wrist.
The doors he blocked when I wanted to leave.
The way he controlled my schedule.
The money he questioned.
The friends he slowly pushed away.
He hadn't started with a plate.
He had started with little things.
And I had excused every one.
"Not like this," I whispered.
My father closed his eyes.
At the hospital, a doctor examined my head.
The tests ruled out a dangerous acute injury, but I had a concussion and needed monitoring, rest, and follow-up care.
My father sat beside me while the nurse gave instructions.
For the first time that night, I allowed myself to cry.
He held my hand without saying anything.
An hour later, his attorney called.
Her name was Danielle Price.
She had spent weeks helping me investigate the apartment transfer.
I heard my father answer.
"Tell me."
He listened.
Then his face darkened.
"What account?"
I sat upright.
"Dad?"
He looked at me with an expression that frightened me more than the recordings.
Danielle had discovered that Marcus wasn't only trying to steal my apartment.
He had already borrowed money using forged property documents.
And the lender expected repayment in forty-eight hours.
May you like
My father slowly lowered the phone.
"Nia," he said, "your husband has been hiding something much bigger than we thought."
