Chapter 8

The arrests made the news.

Vanessa Hale, in handcuffs, being led out of the mansion. Richard Hale, right behind her, his face hidden behind a jacket. The headlines screamed: SOCIETY WIFE ACCUSED OF CHILD ABUSE. COVER-UP ALLEGATIONS.

We got hate mail. Strangers called us gold-diggers. People who'd been at that party, who'd laughed with Richard and Vanessa, whispered that we were destroying an innocent family for money.

But other people came forward too.

A former nanny. A neighbor. A teacher who'd noticed things. One by one, they called the police. By the time the trial date was set, there were six identified victims. Six children. Six families who'd been silent for years.

May started therapy. She was scared at first, but her therapist was gentle and patient. Slowly, May began to talk. She talked about the room Vanessa had taken her to. The dark. The pain. The warning not to tell.

"She said if I told, she'd bite me again," May told me one night. "She said she'd bite Mommy too."

I held her so tight she complained.

Leo started therapy too. Maria got a new job — Daniel's sister hired her at her bakery. Leo and May became inseparable. They built forts together. They colored together. For the first time, I saw Leo laugh.

Linda came to stay with us for a week. She sat in our backyard and watched the children play. She cried more than once. But she also smiled.

"Emily would have loved this," she said quietly.

The trial was set for September. We spent the summer preparing. Daniel found a new job — a smaller company, better people, half the pay but twice the respect. We sold the house. We were going to move after the trial. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere safe.

The night before the trial started, I couldn't sleep.

I went to May's room. She was sleeping peacefully, her hand curled around a stuffed rabbit. No nightmares. Not anymore.

Daniel came up behind me. He put his arms around my waist.

"Scared?" he said.

"Terrified."

"Me too." He kissed the top of my head. "But whatever happens tomorrow, we did the right thing. We stood up for her. That's what matters."

I leaned back against him.

"Remember the night of the party?" I said. "You told me to keep May close. You said you needed tonight to go smoothly."

He laughed softly. "Yeah. Well. It didn't go smoothly."

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"No," I said. "It didn't. But it went somewhere better. It went somewhere true."

We stood there, watching our daughter sleep, and I let myself believe — just for a moment — that we might actually win.