Chapter 2
I knelt in front of Lily.
Her little eyes were wet.
Her hands were still trembling.
“Sweetheart, listen to me.”
She stared at the floor.
I gently lifted her chin.
“You are not bad.”
Her lips trembled.
“Even when I drop things?”
“Even when you drop things.”
“Even when I make mistakes?”
My throat tightened.
“Especially then.”
She looked confused.
I pulled her into my arms.
“You don't have to wash grown-up people's dishes or clothes to be loved.”
Lily began crying.
And I realized she had needed to hear those words for a long time.
Behind us, Denise sighed.
“Oh, for heaven's sake, Marcus.”
I turned.
She folded her arms.
“You're encouraging her to be spoiled.”
I stared at her.
“Stop talking.”
Her mouth fell open.
“Excuse me?”
“I need to take care of my daughter.”
I lifted Lily.
She rested her head on my shoulder.
I looked toward Tasha.
“Please get Lily a dry pair of pajamas from her room.”
Tasha immediately stood.
“Okay.”
Denise snapped, “Sit down.”
Tasha froze.
I looked directly at her.
“Tasha, it's okay. Please help your little sister.”
She hesitated.
Then hurried upstairs.
Denise stood.
“You have no right to undermine me in my own house.”
I took a breath.
“We'll discuss that after Lily is settled.”
She laughed angrily.
“Oh, so now I'm the villain?”
I didn't answer.
I carried my daughter upstairs.
Her bedroom was decorated with pale-yellow stars.
Rachel had chosen that theme before Lily was born.
I'd kept it because Lily loved looking at the glowing stars on her ceiling.
I sat on the edge of her bed.
“Baby, did you have dinner?”
She nodded weakly.
“What did you eat?”
“Rice.”
“And?”
She thought for a moment.
“Carrots.”
I frowned.
“Did you have chicken?”
She shook her head.
“Mom said it was for big people.”
My chest tightened.
I took a slow breath.
“Were you hungry afterward?”
She nodded.
“Very.”
I closed my eyes.
Downstairs, Denise and Tasha had been eating roasted chicken with vegetables.
Our refrigerator was full.
Our pantry was stocked.
There was no reason for Lily to go hungry.
I brushed her curls away from her face.
“Why didn't you ask for more?”
She looked frightened.
“Mom said I already ate enough.”
My heart broke.
Tasha appeared in the doorway carrying dry pajamas.
She looked pale.
“I found these.”
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
She placed them beside Lily.
Then hesitated.
“Marcus…”
I looked at her.
She glanced toward the hallway.
Then whispered, “I'm sorry.”
My stomach tightened.
“For what?”
Tasha's eyes filled.
Before she could answer, Denise shouted from downstairs.
“Tasha!”
The young woman's expression changed immediately.
She stepped backward.
“I should go.”
I looked at her carefully.
“Tasha, you can talk to me anytime.”
She nodded.
But she didn't look convinced.
After helping Lily change, I took her downstairs to the kitchen.
Denise was gone from the dining table.
I warmed some chicken, rice, and vegetables.
Lily sat at the counter watching me.
When I placed the plate in front of her, she stared.
“Is this mine?”
I smiled.
“Yes, sweetheart.”
“All of it?”
My eyes filled.
“Yes.”
She picked up her fork.
Then stopped.
“Do I have to wash the plate after?”
I felt my heart break again.
“No, Lily.”
She looked worried.
“Are you sure?”
I pulled a chair beside her.
“Your only job tonight is to eat, get comfortable, and rest.”
She considered that.
Then smiled faintly.
“Okay, Daddy.”
I watched her eat.
She was so hungry that she finished almost everything.
I had to fight back tears.
When she was done, I carried her upstairs.
I read her favorite bedtime story.
A book about a little elephant looking for its family.
Halfway through, she fell asleep against my chest.
I stayed beside her for another twenty minutes.
Then I whispered, “I'm sorry, baby.”
She didn't hear me.
But I said it anyway.
Because I was beginning to understand how much I'd missed.
For months, Denise had been telling me Lily was difficult.
She complained that Lily refused dinner.
That she made messes.
That she needed stricter discipline.
Whenever I came home from work, Lily seemed tired.
I assumed preschool and playing exhausted her.
When she grew quiet around Denise, I told myself she was adjusting to having a new mother figure.
But now I wondered whether she'd been afraid all along.
I kissed her forehead.
Then quietly left the room.
Denise was waiting in our bedroom.
She stood beside the dresser.
Her arms were crossed.
“Are you finished treating me like a criminal?”
I closed the door.
“Why was Lily doing Tasha's laundry?”
Denise rolled her eyes.
“Oh, please.”
I stared at her.
“Answer me.”
“She helps around the house.”
“She's four.”
“So?”
I felt anger rise.
“So she shouldn't be responsible for an adult's laundry.”
Denise shook her head.
“You're too soft.”
I took a slow breath.
“How often does she do it?”
She looked away.
“Sometimes.”
“How often?”
“Marcus, I don't keep a schedule.”
I stared at her.
“Then tell me what else she does.”
Denise's expression hardened.
“I'm not going to defend every decision I make.”
I stepped closer.
“You made my daughter afraid to stop washing dishes.”
She laughed bitterly.
“She cries about everything.”
My chest tightened.
“You didn't even notice how exhausted she was.”
Denise pointed toward the door.
“Maybe if you were home more often, you would understand what raising her is actually like.”
The words struck me.
Because there was truth buried inside them.
I had been working long hours.
Too many.
I told myself I was providing for everyone.
But I hadn't been present enough to see what was happening.
Still, my absence didn't excuse cruelty.
I looked at Denise.
“You're right about one thing.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“I should've been here more.”
Her expression softened slightly.
Then I continued.
“And that's going to change.”
Denise stared at me.
I took a breath.
“Starting tomorrow, I'm handling Lily's daily care.”
She laughed.
“You can't run a company and raise a child alone.”
I shook my head.
“I raised her before we met.”
Her face tightened.
“And I can make sure she receives appropriate care now.”
Denise looked offended.
“So you don't trust me?”
I held her gaze.
“Not with the information I have tonight.”
She stared at me.
Then whispered, “You're making a mistake.”
I didn't answer.
I left the bedroom and went downstairs.
Tasha was sitting alone in the dining room.
She looked up when she heard me.
“Marcus?”
I sat across from her.
“Can we talk?”
She nodded nervously.
I took a breath.
“Has Lily been doing your laundry regularly?”
Tasha stared at her hands.
Then whispered, “Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“How long?”
She swallowed.
“Since Christmas.”
I closed my eyes.
Five months.
My daughter had been four for only six weeks.
Tasha began crying.
“Mom told me it was good for her.”
I looked at her.
“Did you believe that?”
She shook her head.
“Not really.”
“Then why didn't you stop it?”
Her face crumpled.
“Because Mom said if I interfered, she'd stop paying for my college.”
I stared at her.
Tasha wiped her cheeks.
May you like
Then whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“Marcus, the dishes aren't the worst thing.”
