Chapter 6: The Case She Built Against Herself
He came through the front door to find Victoria sitting in the living room with her coat on and a small bag at her feet.
She looked up when he entered.
Her eyes were red.
Her hands were folded in her lap.
"I called your mother," she said.
"I know."
"I needed someone to talk to.
You left without a word."
"I had somewhere to be."
"Where?"
He didn't answer.
He sat down in the chair across from her and looked at her steadily.
"I want to ask you something, and I want you to answer me honestly."
"Of course."
"Did a registered letter arrive at this house approximately three months before our wedding?"
Something moved behind her eyes.
Gone before he could name it.
"I don't remember every piece of mail that comes through this house, Ethan."
"This one would have been memorable.
It was addressed to me.
Someone signed for it."
"I sign for packages sometimes.
If you were at work—"
"What did you do with it?"
She looked at him.
A long look.
Calculated, though she was trying to make it seem wounded.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Victoria."
"I don't." She stood up, and her voice gained a slight tremor — not much, just enough.
"I don't know what someone has told you, but I came home last night and I made a mistake with an iron and now you're treating me like I'm some kind of—"
"Daniel Marsh."
She stopped.
The room was very quiet.
"His daughter's name is Lily," Ethan said.
"She's nine years old.
She has scars on her left arm and shoulder."
Victoria sat back down.
The tremor was gone from her voice when she spoke again.
"That was a long time ago."
"That's what you have to say about it."
"It was an accident.
The same kind of accident as last night.
I'm not — I would never deliberately hurt a child.
Either child."
"The medical specialist said the burn pattern on Lily was consistent with contact.
Not a spill."
"One specialist.
One opinion.
The official finding was inconclusive." Her chin lifted slightly.
"I was investigated and cleared.
That is a matter of record."
"You intercepted the letter that would have told me about it before I married you."
"I don't know anything about a letter."
"Your signature is on the delivery confirmation."
She said nothing.
Her hands were very still in her lap.
She was thinking — he could see it — running through options the way someone does when they've rehearsed for a version of this conversation but not quite this version.
"I want to see my son," she said finally.
"No."
"He is my son too—"
"He is my son.
And until I understand exactly what happened last night and exactly what happened seven years ago, you will not be alone with him.
Not for one minute."
Victoria stood up slowly.
She picked up the small bag at her feet.
"You're making a mistake."
"Maybe."
"I have rights, Ethan.
Legal rights.
You can't simply decide—"
"I'm not deciding anything tonight except that my son sleeps safely.
If you want to discuss legal rights, call a lawyer."
She walked toward the front door.
Her hand was on the handle when she stopped and turned back.
"I loved you," she said.
Her voice was very quiet.
"Whatever you think of me, I want you to know that."
He looked at her.
He thought about Lily.
He thought about the burn mark on the sofa armrest.
He thought about a registered letter with a looping initial on the signature line.
"I know you did," he said.
"In whatever way you're capable of."
She left without another word.
The door closed behind her.
Upstairs, he could hear the baby beginning to stir — small sounds, not quite crying yet, just waking.
He stood up and went to him.
His phone buzzed on the table as he reached the stairs.
A message from a number he didn't recognize — a different number from Claire's.
*She just called me.
She's asking for money and a place to stay.
I said no.
But Ethan — she mentioned your son by name.
She said, "He's the only thing I have left." I thought you should know.*
He didn't know the number.
May you like
He didn't know who had sent it.
But whoever they were, they were right to be afraid.
