Chapter 2: The Folder on the Counter
Grant didn't look at Lily once.
He crossed the room straight to Vanessa, cupped her face in both hands, and spoke to her like a man comforting someone who had been wronged.
"Did she touch you?" he asked.
"Are you okay?"
I stood there holding our daughter, whose fingers were still shaking against my neck.
"Grant," I said.
He turned.
The panic from a moment ago was gone.
In its place was something colder — the face of a man who had already decided how this conversation would go.
"You weren't supposed to be back until Friday."
"It's Lily's birthday," I said.
He glanced at her once.
Just once.
Then he looked away.
"She's fine."
"She is not fine." My voice stayed level.
I had been trained to keep it level.
"There are marks on her arms, Grant.
Old ones."
Vanessa made a small sound — almost a laugh.
"She bruises easily," she said.
"Fragile little thing."
Something shifted in the room.
Grant didn't correct her.
He didn't even flinch.
That was when I noticed the papers on the kitchen counter.
A folder.
A pen placed neatly on top.
My name printed on the top line.
I looked at Grant.
"What is that?"
He straightened his tie.
"I was going to call you this weekend," he said.
"It's better this way.
Cleaner."
Lily pressed her face into my shoulder and went very still.
---
What's in that folder — and how far has Grant already gone behind Evelyn's back?
The full truth is darker than you think.
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