Chapter 7
I dropped my phone.
It clattered on the hardwood floor.
My father picked it up.
He read the email.
His face went dark with rage.
"She can't do this," I said. My voice was shaking. "She's the one who hit me. She's the one who's unstable."
"She can try," my father said. "And she has the money to hire the best attorneys. The best psychologists. She'll try to paint you as unstable. As traumatized by the divorce. As a danger to your own child."
"I won't let her take Emma," I said. "I'd rather die than let that woman raise my daughter."
"You won't have to," he said. "We'll fight her. With everything we have."
He called Mr. Chen immediately.
I sat on the couch, staring at nothing.
Linda was trying to take my daughter.
The woman who'd killed her own husband.
The woman who'd arranged her son's marriage for revenge.
The woman who'd slapped me in front of my child.
She wanted to raise Emma.
To turn her into another Harrington.
Another person controlled by fear and money.
I wouldn't let it happen.
That afternoon, Mr. Chen arrived.
He brought with him a stack of papers.
And a serious expression.
"Linda's petition is aggressive," he said. "She's requesting full custody. No visitation for you. She's also requesting child support from you, based on your father's assets."
"That's absurd," I said.
"She's betting on your emotional state," Mr. Chen said. "She knows you're hurt. She knows you're angry. And she's going to try to use that against you in court. Any outburst. Any sign of distress. Her attorneys will twist it into proof that you're unstable."
He laid out a plan.
Psychological evaluations.
Witness statements.
Evidence of Linda's history of aggression.
"We also need to address the allegation about Richard Harrington's death," he said. "If we can prove Linda is dangerous—even just raise reasonable doubt—it could help your custody case immensely."
"But Daniel won't testify," I said.
"Then we need to find someone who will," he said.
That evening, I was putting Emma to bed.
She was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Mommy?" she said.
"Yes, baby?"
"Is Grandma Linda going to take me away?"
My heart broke.
I sat down on the bed beside her.
"Who told you that?"
"I heard Daddy on the phone," she said. "He was talking to Grandma Linda. He said you were sick. That I needed to live with them for a while."
I pulled her close.
"Nobody is taking you anywhere," I said. "You're safe here. With Mommy and Grandpa. Nobody will ever hurt you again."
She snuggled against me.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
After she fell asleep, I went downstairs.
My father was in the living room, talking to someone.
A woman I didn't recognize.
She was in her fifties, with kind eyes and graying hair pulled back in a bun.
"Sarah," my father said. "This is Margaret. She worked for the Harringtons for twenty years. She was Richard's personal assistant."
Margaret smiled at me.
It was a sad smile.
"I'm sorry about what happened," she said. "Linda was always a monster. But I never thought she'd go this far."
"You worked for Richard," I said. "Do you know what really happened to him?"
She nodded slowly.
"I was there that night," she said. "I'd forgotten some papers. I came back to the house. And I saw Linda. She was coming out of Richard's bedroom. She was carrying a small bottle. And her hands were shaking."
"Did you tell the police?"
"I tried," she said. "But Linda found out. She threatened me. Told me she'd say I'd been stealing from the company. That I'd go to prison. I was scared. I had a daughter to raise. So I kept quiet."
She reached into her bag.
She pulled out an envelope.
"I kept this," she said. "I didn't know why. I guess I always hoped someday I'd be brave enough to use it."
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a small glass vial.
Empty now.
But there was a label on it.
*Digoxin. For heart conditions. Use only as directed.*
And there was handwriting on the back.
Linda's handwriting.
*Richard's medicine. Extra. Just in case.*
"This is the bottle she used," Margaret said. "I saw her drop it in the trash that night. I fished it out. I kept it all these years."
I stared at the vial.
Twelve years old.
But it had Linda's fingerprints on it.
And Richard's DNA, probably.
"This could reopen the case," my father said.
"There's more," Margaret said. "I have journals. Richard's journals. He wrote about everything. Linda's embezzlement. The divorce. The threats she made against him. He was scared of her. Really scared."
She handed me another envelope.
Thick. Heavy.
Full of secrets.
"This changes everything," Mr. Chen said.
I held the vial in my hand.
It was cold.
And it was the key to everything.
Linda's crimes.
Her lies.
Her hold over Daniel.
And my best chance to keep Emma.
But as I looked at Margaret, I saw something in her eyes.
Fear.
"She's not going to let this go easily," Margaret said. "Linda doesn't just fight dirty. She fights to kill. And she knows I'm here. She's probably already watching me."
Just then, the lights went out.
The whole house went dark.
My father's security team shouted from outside.
May you like
And then we heard it.
The sound of shattering glass.
