Chapter 2
For several seconds, I forgot how to breathe.
Emma was still in my arms.
Her cheek was burning red.
Cake covered the floor.
Twenty people were staring at us.
And my husband looked at the divorce petition as if he had just watched a loaded gun fall from his pocket.
“Sarah,” Daniel said quietly.
I bent down without putting Emma down and picked up the papers.
My hands shook.
The petition had Daniel’s name on it.
My name.
Our address.
Our wedding date.
And a section concerning custody of Emma.
I read one line.
Then another.
My stomach turned cold.
Daniel was requesting primary physical custody.
He wanted me limited to supervised visitation.
I looked up.
“You’re trying to take my daughter?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Margaret laughed.
“Stop lying, Daniel.”
“Mom, shut up.”
That was the first time I had ever heard him speak to her that way.
Margaret’s smile disappeared.
Daniel moved toward me.
“Sarah, those papers aren’t final.”
I backed away.
“You signed them.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Did you sign them?”
He said nothing.
I looked at the bottom of the page.
There it was.
Daniel Michael Carter.
His signature.
Dated eleven days earlier.
My chest tightened.
Eleven days.
For eleven days, he had kissed me goodnight.
For eleven days, he had asked me what I wanted for dinner.
For eleven days, he had watched cartoons with Emma on the couch and smiled while she climbed into his lap.
And the entire time, this petition existed.
“What did I do?” I whispered.
Daniel’s face crumpled.
“Nothing.”
“Then why does this say I’m emotionally unstable?”
A few guests shifted uncomfortably.
Margaret crossed her arms.
“Because you are.”
I turned on her.
“You slapped a preschooler over spilled wine.”
“And you destroyed my property in a violent outburst.”
I stared at her.
Then I understood.
My eyes dropped to the cake.
The overturned chairs.
The wine.
The screaming guests.
Margaret had been waiting for something like this.
Maybe not exactly this.
But something.
Something she could point to.
Something that could make me look dangerous.
I slowly turned toward Daniel.
“Did you know she was going to hit Emma?”
His eyes widened.
“What? No.”
“Did you know she wanted to provoke me?”
“No.”
Margaret scoffed.
“Everything is always a conspiracy with you.”
I ignored her.
“Daniel, look at me.”
He did.
“Did you and your mother plan tonight?”
“No.”
“Then tell me why this petition says I have a history of explosive behavior.”
Silence.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
I read further.
There were allegations.
That I had thrown a ceramic bowl during an argument.
That I screamed in front of Emma.
That I once threatened to disappear with her.
All three descriptions twisted real events.
The ceramic bowl had slipped from my hand while Daniel and I argued.
I had yelled once when Daniel forgot to pick Emma up from preschool.
And the “threat” to disappear?
I had told my sister after a horrible week that I wished I could take Emma to the beach and turn off my phone for a month.
Daniel had taken pieces of my life and turned them into evidence.
“You documented our arguments?”
His eyes filled with shame.
“My attorney asked questions.”
“You already have an attorney?”
“I talked to someone.”
My knees almost gave out.
Emma tightened her arms around my neck.
“Mommy, can we go?”
Her voice was tiny.
That was enough.
I folded the petition and shoved it into my purse.
Daniel stepped forward.
“Sarah, please.”
“Don’t touch us.”
“She’s my daughter too.”
I looked at him.
“Then why didn’t you protect her?”
His face went pale.
Behind him, Margaret rolled her eyes.
“Oh, for God’s sake. It was one slap.”
Emma flinched at the word.
I saw it.
So did Daniel.
Something shifted in his expression.
He looked at his mother.
Then at Emma.
For one second, I thought he finally understood.
But Margaret spoke first.
“You walk out that door with my granddaughter and I’ll call the police.”
I almost laughed.
“For what?”
“Kidnapping.”
“We’re married.”
“Not for long.”
Daniel snapped.
“Mom!”
But Margaret was already pulling out her phone.
I stared at her.
“Call them.”
Her finger stopped.
“Go ahead.”
I moved closer.
“Tell the police you slapped a four-year-old across the face because she spilled wine. There are twenty witnesses.”
No one spoke.
I turned toward the guests.
“Anyone want to say I’m lying?”
Margaret’s sister Linda looked down.
Daniel’s cousin Mark studied the floor.
Then a woman near the doorway raised her hand.
It was Rachel, Daniel’s childhood friend.
“I saw it.”
Margaret glared at her.
Rachel swallowed.
“You hit Emma.”
Another voice came from the table.
“So did I.”
Then another.
Within seconds, four people had confirmed it.
Margaret’s face changed.
For the first time that night, she looked nervous.
I walked toward the door.
Daniel followed me.
“Sarah, wait.”
I stepped outside.
Cold air hit my face.
Emma began crying the second the front door closed.
Not loud crying.
That would have been easier.
She pressed her face into my shoulder and shook.
I carried her to the car.
Daniel caught the passenger door before I could shut it.
“Please let me explain.”
“Move.”
“I never wanted supervised visitation.”
“Your signature says otherwise.”
“My mother pushed for that language.”
“And you signed it.”
“I was scared.”
“Of me?”
He looked away.
That hurt worse than an answer.
I stared at the man I had loved for eight years.
“You were scared enough of me to secretly prepare a custody case, but not scared enough to leave Emma alone with your mother?”
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I shut the door.
Daniel stood beside the car.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
I noticed.
“Who is it?”
“No one.”
“Show me.”
“Sarah…”
“Show me the phone.”
He hesitated.
That was answer enough.
A new kind of dread moved through me.
“There’s someone else.”
“No.”
But he couldn’t look at me.
My heart seemed to stop.
“Daniel.”
“It isn’t what you think.”
I laughed once.
It sounded broken.
“Every cheating husband in America should get that printed on a T-shirt.”
“I’m not cheating.”
“Then who keeps calling?”
He turned the screen toward himself.
Too late.
I had already seen the name.
Rebecca.
I knew exactly one Rebecca in Daniel’s life.
Rebecca Hale.
His attorney.
Except I also knew something else.
Three weeks earlier, I had found a restaurant receipt in Daniel’s jacket.
Dinner for two.
At a place where entrées cost sixty dollars.
He told me it was a client meeting.
Now I remembered the reservation name printed across the top.
R. Hale.
“You had dinner with your divorce attorney.”
“It was a consultation.”
“At nine-thirty at night?”
His jaw tightened.
I felt sick.
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“No.”
“Have you kissed her?”
His silence lasted half a second too long.
I closed my eyes.
Emma was still crying quietly beside me.
I refused to fall apart.
Not there.
Not in front of him.
I got into the driver’s seat.
Daniel knocked on the window.
“Sarah, don’t do this.”
I lowered it two inches.
“I didn’t do this.”
Then I drove away.
Halfway home, Emma spoke from the back seat.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Is Daddy mad at me because I spilled the drink?”
My vision blurred.
“No.”
“Grandma said I make Daddy tired.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“What else did Grandma say?”
Emma became quiet.
“Baby, you can tell me.”
Her small voice came from the darkness.
“She said Daddy needs a new family.”
I nearly missed the stop sign.
I pulled over.
Turned around.
Emma looked terrified.
“Did Grandma say that today?”
She nodded.
“When?”
“When you were in the bathroom.”
My hands went numb.
“What exactly did she say?”
Emma twisted the hem of her dress.
“She said Daddy would have a nice house after you go away. And maybe I could stay if I was good.”
I could barely speak.
“If you were good?”
Emma nodded again.
“She said bad girls get sent to Mommy.”
The world became very still.
That wasn’t a grandmother losing her temper.
That was conditioning.
Preparation.
Something planned.
I unbuckled my seat belt, climbed into the back, and held Emma.
“You listen to me.”
She stared at me.
“You are not bad.”
Her mouth trembled.
“You are not responsible for adults being angry.”
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“And nobody gets to make you earn your family.”
She threw her arms around me.
I held her until her breathing slowed.
Then my phone buzzed.
Daniel.
I ignored it.
Another call.
Daniel again.
Then Margaret.
Then Daniel.
Finally, a text appeared.
PLEASE DON’T GO HOME.
I stared at the screen.
Another message came immediately.
CALL ME. NOW.
My skin prickled.
I dialed him.
He answered on the first ring.
“Where are you?”
“Why shouldn’t I go home?”
“Because Mom has a key.”
“So?”
“She left the party.”
I looked toward the road behind me.
“What are you saying?”
“I don’t know what she’s doing.”
“Daniel.”
His breathing was fast.
“When you left, she said she was done letting you control the story.”
Ice moved through my veins.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.”
“I swear I don’t.”
Then I heard a car door slam on his end.
“Sarah, listen to me. Take Emma to your sister’s place.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m driving to the house right now.”
I looked at Emma.
She was watching me.
“What is your mother capable of?”
Daniel went silent.
And in that silence, I heard something I had never heard from him before.
Fear.
“Sarah…”
“What?”
“There’s something else in the petition.”
I grabbed the papers from my purse.
“What?”
“An attachment.”
I flipped through the pages.
Near the back was a reference to Exhibit C.
There was no Exhibit C attached.
“What is it?”
Daniel whispered.
“A recording.”
My stomach dropped.
“What recording?”
“Something my mother gave Rebecca.”
I could barely hold the phone.
“Of what?”
He took a breath.
“Of you screaming at Emma.”
I stared at my daughter.
“I have never screamed at Emma.”
“I know.”
“Then what recording?”
Daniel’s voice broke.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
I heard him start his engine.
“I listened to it tonight.”
“And?”
“It’s your voice.”
I stopped breathing.
“But Sarah…”
May you like
His next words made every hair on my arms rise.
“You never said those things.”
