Chapter 4
The room went silent.
Emma looked at her father, her eyes wide with fear. She'd forgotten he was there.
"Dad, I—" she started.
David held up a hand. He looked like he'd been punched in the stomach.
"Emma," he said, his voice trembling. "Is that true?"
Emma looked at me, then back at her father. She nodded slowly, tears streaming down her face.
"She's always mean to me when you're at work," she whispered. "She yells. She breaks my things. She says Mom was weak. She says I'm weak too."
David sank onto the edge of the bed. He looked at his daughter—really looked at her, for what felt like the first time.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he said, his voice breaking.
Emma flinched. "Because she said if I did, she'd make sure you never loved me again. She said you'd choose her. You always do."
David closed his eyes. A tear rolled down his cheek.
He looked at me.
"The video," he said. "Show me."
I pulled out my phone and played it for him.
He watched in silence.
When it was over, he looked at his daughter's bandaged head. At the locket clutched in her small hand.
And he broke.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, pulling Emma into his arms. "I'm so, so sorry. I should have known. I should have seen it."
Emma cried into his shoulder.
Linda chose that moment to walk back into the room.
She was holding a cup of coffee and a magazine, looking relaxed and casual.
Then she saw our faces.
The coffee cup slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.
"What's going on?" she said, her eyes darting between me, David, and Emma.
David stood up. He turned to face his wife.
His face was a mask of rage and grief.
"You hurt her," he said. His voice was low and dangerous. "You hurt my daughter. And you lied to me."
Linda's face went pale. Then she tried the tears again.
"David, I—"
"Don't," he said, holding up a hand. "I saw the video. I heard Emma. The game is over, Linda."
Linda looked at me. Her eyes burned with hatred.
"You," she spat. "You did this."
"I just told the truth," I said.
"The truth?" Linda laughed, a wild, desperate sound. "You don't know the truth about anything. You don't know what she's really like."
She pointed at Emma.
"She's not the innocent little angel you think she is," Linda said. "She's manipulative. She lies. She tries to turn everyone against me."
"Get out," David said quietly.
"David—"
"I said get out!" he shouted. "Pack your things and get out of my house. I want you gone by the time we get home."
Linda stared at him. She looked like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Then her face hardened.
"You'll regret this," she said. "Both of you."
She turned and stormed out of the room.
I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.
David looked at me. His eyes were red, but there was something new in them now. Determination.
"Thank you," he said. "For everything. If you hadn't been there..."
He couldn't finish.
"I'm just glad she's okay," I said.
The doctor came in a few minutes later. He checked Emma over and said she could go home the next day.
David called his sister to come stay with them for a while. He wanted someone there to make sure Linda was gone and Emma was safe.
I stood up to leave.
"Wait," Emma said. She reached out and took my hand. "Will you come visit me? When I'm home?"
I smiled. "Of course I will."
I drove home, feeling lighter than I had in days.
Linda was gone. Emma was safe. David finally knew the truth.
Everything was going to be okay.
I walked up to my front door.
And stopped.
The door was slightly open.
I knew I'd locked it when I left.
My heart started pounding.
I pushed the door open slowly.
My house was a mess.
Couch cushions thrown everywhere. Drawers pulled open and dumped onto the floor. My books scattered across the living room.
Someone had broken in.
I pulled out my phone and called the police.
Then I walked carefully through the house, checking each room.
Nothing seemed to be missing. No jewelry. No electronics. No money.
They hadn't come to steal.
They'd come to send a message.
I walked into my bedroom.
And froze.
On my pillow, arranged in a perfect circle, were the broken pieces of a small wooden locket.
Not Emma's locket. She had that.
This was a different one.
But it looked exactly the same.
And pinned to the pillow with a kitchen knife was a single sheet of paper.
I pulled the knife out and read the note.
May you like
It was written in neat, cold handwriting.
"I told you accidents happen."
