Chapter 8
The sound came from the back of the house.
"Stay here," my father said.
He pulled out his phone.
"Code red," he said into it. "Breach at the back. Find out what's going on."
Margaret was white.
"She found me," she whispered. "She knows I'm here."
I held onto the vial.
I wouldn't let it go.
Not for anything.
A few minutes later, the lights came back on.
One of my father's security men came into the room.
He was holding a rock.
Wrapped in paper.
"They threw it through the kitchen window," he said. "Nobody got in. The perimeter held."
My father unwrapped the paper.
There was a message written on it.
In big, angry letters.
*SILENCE IS GOLDEN. TALK, AND YOU DIE.*
Margaret gasped.
My father's face was grim.
"Get her to the safe room," he said to the security man. "Now. And make sure nobody gets near her."
Margaret was led away.
I was still holding the vial.
"She's scared," I said. "That's why she's doing this. She knows we have evidence against her."
"She's dangerous when she's scared," my father said.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I lay in bed, watching Emma breathe.
I kept thinking about the vial.
About Richard's journals.
About Margaret's testimony.
Linda had gotten away with murder for twelve years.
She wasn't going to give up now.
The next morning, Mr. Chen called.
"The lab is processing the vial," he said. "And I've been through Richard's journals. They're damning, Sarah. If we can get this into the right hands—"
"Linda will fight back," I said.
"She already is," he said. "I just got off the phone with her attorney. They're requesting an emergency custody hearing. Next week. They want Emma placed with Linda immediately."
"On what grounds?"
"They're saying you're hoarding the child. That you're refusing to let Daniel see her. That your emotional state is deteriorating rapidly."
"Daniel hasn't even asked to see her," I said.
"They'll lie," he said. "They'll say you blocked his calls. That you've been hostile. We need to be prepared."
That afternoon, there was a knock at the door.
It was Daniel.
He looked worse than ever.
"Sarah," he said. "Please. Let me see Emma."
I stood in the doorway.
I didn't let him in.
"She's taking a nap," I said.
"I need to talk to you," he said. "About the custody hearing. About Linda."
"I have nothing to say to you."
"Sarah, please." He looked desperate. "I know about Margaret. I know what she told you. And I know about the vial."
My blood ran cold.
"How do you know?"
"Linda told me," he said. "She has people everywhere. She knows Margaret is here. She knows what evidence you have. And she's planning something. Something big. For the custody hearing."
"What is she planning?"
"She wouldn't tell me," he said. "But she was smiling. That cold smile she gets when she's about to destroy someone. Sarah, you need to be careful. She's not going to play fair."
"And you're telling me this because…?"
He looked at me.
Tears in his eyes.
"Because she's my mother," he said. "And I've spent my whole life being afraid of her. But Emma is my daughter. And I don't want her to grow up the way I did. Scared. Controlled. Never allowed to be her own person."
He paused.
"I love Emma," he said. "And I love you. Even if you can't believe that. Even if it's too late."
I stared at him.
For a moment, I almost believed him.
Almost.
"If you really love Emma," I said. "If you really want to help. Then you'll testify against your mother. You'll tell the court what you saw that night. What she did to your father."
He flinched.
"I can't," he whispered. "She'll kill me. You know she will."
"Then you're not just afraid of her," I said. "You're weak. And Emma deserves better than a weak father."
I started to close the door.
"Sarah, wait!"
He handed me an envelope.
"What's this?"
"Proof," he said. "Of what she's been doing. The money. The payments to Victoria. The plan to take Emma. It's all in there. I made copies. Before she could destroy everything."
I took the envelope.
"Why are you giving me this?"
"Because I can't testify," he said. "But maybe this can help. Maybe I can do one good thing. Before she destroys everything."
He turned and walked away.
I closed the door.
I opened the envelope.
Inside were bank records.
Emails.
Text messages.
All between Linda and her attorneys.
All about me.
About how to destroy me.
How to take Emma.
How to ruin my father.
And at the bottom, there was one more thing.
A photograph.
Of my father.
Taken that morning.
Walking from his car to his office.
May you like
And written on the back, in Linda's handwriting:
*He's next.*
