Chapter 8 - The Morning Knock
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No one slept that morning. Robert spent the next three hours making frantic, hushed phone calls to a private investigator he trusted, while I brewed endless pots of coffee and kept an eye on the street outside.
At exactly 9:00 AM, a heavy, authoritative knock rattled my front door.
I jumped, spilling coffee on the kitchen counter. Robert immediately stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. “Stay behind me,” he instructed.
I followed him to the door. Through the peephole, I saw two uniformed police officers standing on my porch. My stomach twisted, but Robert opened the door with professional calm.
“Can I help you, officers?” Robert asked smoothly.
“We’re looking for Margaret Miller,” the taller officer said, holding a clipboard. “We received a distressed call from a Mr. Damian Prescott. He claims his wife, Chloe Prescott, was forcibly abducted from his restaurant last night by her mother. He requested a mandatory wellness check.”
I felt a surge of pure rage. Damian was weaponizing the police to intimidate us.
“I am Margaret Miller,” I stepped forward, my voice surprisingly steady. “My daughter is here voluntarily. She is fleeing an abusive environment.”
“Ma'am, we still need to see her to confirm her safety,” the officer insisted, stepping halfway over the threshold.
Chloe walked slowly out of the living room. She looked exhausted, her face pale, but her eyes were determined.
“I am Chloe,” she said clearly. “I am fine. I left my husband on my own free will. He is lying to you.”
The officer scrutinized her, noting her hollow cheeks and exhausted demeanor. “Are you sure you don't need assistance, ma'am? Mr. Prescott was highly concerned.”
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“Her husband is currently under investigation for financial fraud and spousal abuse,” Robert interjected, handing the officer his business card. “Any further communication from Mr. Prescott should be directed to my law firm. Good day, officers.”
Robert shut the door firmly, locking it. The war had officially begun.
