Chapter 11 - PHASE TWO
The house was finally empty.
Except for me and Detective Mitchell.
The silence was deafening.
I sat at the dining table, staring at the thick manila folder.
EMMA LAWSON – PHASE TWO.
"Are you ready to look at it?" Mitchell asked.
I took a deep breath.
"Yes."
She opened the folder and spread the documents across the table.
It wasn't just a financial plan.
It was a psychological blueprint for my destruction.
The first section contained fabricated medical records.
Someone had forged notes from a psychiatrist I had never seen.
The notes detailed severe postpartum depression.
Paranoia.
Delusions.
"Where did these come from?" I asked, my hands shaking as I read the lies.
"They were created by Marcus Vance," Mitchell explained.
"He has connections with a disgraced doctor who lost his license."
"They paid him to create a fake medical history for you."
I felt nauseous.
"They were going to use this in family court," I whispered.
"Yes," Mitchell said.
"To prove you were unfit to care for Noah."
But it got worse.
The next section was titled: Environmental Stressors.
It was a detailed log of every time I had lost my keys.
Every time I had forgotten an appointment.
Every time I had felt exhausted.
"He was tracking my mistakes," I said.
"No," Mitchell corrected gently.
"He was causing them."
She pulled out a receipt from a pharmacy.
It was for a strong sleep medication.
A medication I had never been prescribed.
"We found crushed residue in a small vial in his bathroom drawer," she said.
The room spun around me.
"He was drugging me?"
Mitchell nodded slowly.
"Small doses."
"Just enough to make you tired."
"Make you forgetful."
"Make you question your own sanity."
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
I remembered the mornings I couldn't wake up.
The brain fog.
The constant exhaustion.
Ethan would always bring me a cup of tea before bed.
He would stroke my hair and tell me I needed to rest.
He was poisoning me.
In my own home.
While my son slept down the hall.
I covered my mouth to muffle a sob.
"He's a monster," I choked out.
"He's a predator," Mitchell agreed.
"And he's been doing this for a very long time."
She turned to the last page in the folder.
It was a printout of an airline itinerary.
Two tickets to Costa Rica.
One way.
The passenger names were Eric Collins and Noah Collins.
Eric Collins.
One of Ethan's fake identities.
The departure date was exactly two weeks from today.
"He wasn't just going to take your money," Mitchell said softly.
"He was going to take your son and disappear."
I stared at the tickets.
Two weeks.
If I hadn't come home early today...
May you like
If I hadn't noticed the car in the driveway...
I would have lost everything.
