Chapter 13 - The Poisoned Well|
Vivian stayed silent, her jaw locked tight, refusing to speak.
Without another word, I turned on my heel and sprinted up the stairs, taking them three at a time. Natalie followed right behind me.
I threw open the door to the master bedroom.
Emma was still on the floor near the nightstand, but she had managed to drag herself into a sitting position against the bed frame. She was clutching her surgical incision, her face soaked in tears, trembling so hard her teeth were chattering.
In the corner of the room, little Oliver had finally cried himself to sleep in his bassinet.
“Emma!” I gasped, dropping to my knees beside her, pulling her fragile body gently into my arms. “Emma, baby, I’m here. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry I wasn't here.”
Emma buried her face into my chest, sobbing uncontrollably, her small hands clutching tightly to my shirt.
“Daniel... I’m sorry,” she wept hysterically. “I tried to clean it... I tried to be strong... please don't let her take Oliver... please...”
“Nobody is taking Oliver,” I promised, kissing her forehead, her hair, her wet cheeks. “Nobody is ever touching you or Oliver again. I know everything, Emma. I watched the video. I know what she did with the medication.”
Emma pulled back slightly, her wide, bloodshot eyes searching my face in absolute terror.
“She... she told me she’d tell you...” Emma choked out through her sobs.
“Tell me what, sweetheart?” I asked gently, holding her face in my hands. “What could she possibly have over you?”
Emma swallowed hard, taking a ragged, painful breath.
“Before Oliver was born... when I was thirty weeks pregnant... Vivian came to my doctor’s appointment with me,” Emma confessed, her voice shaking violently. “She offered to pay for the private room upgrades. But while the doctor was out of the room... she stole my medical file. She found my old mental health records from when I was nineteen... after my brother died in that car accident.”
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My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit.
“She threatened to release them,” Emma wept. “She told me that if I ever complained about her, or if I ever tried to limit her access to the baby, she would take those old grief-counseling records to a family court judge and prove I was unfit to be a mother. She said she’d make sure you divorced me and gave her full custody!”
