Chapter 2
I didn’t move for three full seconds.
My eyes were still locked on the will in Mom’s hand, the words burning into my brain.
$4.2 million.
My baby’s life worth less than that to her.
The cops didn’t wait for an answer.
The front door creaked open, and two uniformed officers stepped into the hallway, followed by Dr. Hale, Olivia’s doctor, her face tight with worry.
“Mr. Carter?” one officer said.
His hand rested light on his belt.
“We got a call from Dr. Hale. She said she was concerned for your wife’s safety.”
I nodded.
Couldn’t speak.
Just stepped aside so they could see into the bedroom.
See Olivia curled on the bed, her legs bare, the bruises on full display.
See Mom standing there, the will still in her hand, that cold smirk not quite gone from her face.
Dr. Hale was moving before anyone else.
She rushed to the bed, her bag hitting the floor with a thud, and knelt beside Olivia.
“Let me see,” she said softly.
Olivia flinched when Dr. Hale reached for her ankle, then let her touch the bruise on her thigh.
A small, pained gasp escaped her.
The other officer stepped into the room.
His eyes went from the bruises to Mom, then to the will crumpled in her fist.
“Martha Carter?” he said.
Mom’s smirk dropped.
She tried to fold the paper fast, like she could hide it, but the officer held out his hand.
“Give that to me. Now.”
She hesitated.
Then handed it over, her fingers shaking a little now.
The officer scanned it fast, his jaw tightening.
He looked up at me.
“Sir, I need you to come downstairs and give a statement.
Officer Torres will stay here with your wife and the doctor.”
I looked at Olivia.
She was staring at me, her eyes wide, tears still running down her cheeks.
“Don’t leave me,” she mouthed.
I crossed the room fast, knelt beside the bed, and took her hand.
Her skin was ice cold.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.
“Not ever again. I’ll be right downstairs, okay? Five minutes. No more.”
She nodded, but her grip on my hand didn’t loosen.
I had to pry my fingers free one by one.
When I stood up, I didn’t look at Mom.
I couldn’t.
If I looked at her, I was scared I’d do something I’d regret.
Something that would take me away from Olivia when she needed me most.
Downstairs, I sat at the kitchen table, the same table where Mom had first whispered her lies about Olivia.
The officer sat across from me, a notepad open.
“Start from the beginning,” he said.
I told him everything.
How Mom had moved in two months prior.
The whispers about Ryan.
The blanket.
The flinching.
The photo in the garage.
The confrontation.
The bruises.
The will.
Every word came out fast, tripping over itself, like if I said it quick enough I could take back the last two months.
Take back every time I’d doubted Olivia.
Every time I’d believed Mom.
When I finished, the officer was quiet for a minute.
He flipped a page in his notepad.
“Your wife mentioned a man named Ryan.
Do you know who that is?”
I shook my head.
“Mom said he was her lover.
I saw a photo of them outside the grocery store.
But I don’t know anything else.”
The officer nodded.
“We’ll look into it.
In the meantime, we’re taking your mother in for questioning.
Assault of a pregnant person is a felony in Texas.
With the will as motive… this isn’t going to go well for her.”
Relief hit me so hard my shoulders slumped.
But it was tangled up with guilt so thick I could taste it.
She was my mom.
The woman who’d raised me.
Who’d bandaged my scraped knees and come to every Little League game.
And I’d let her hurt the person I loved most in the world.
Thirty minutes later, they led Mom out of the house in cuffs.
She didn’t look at me as she passed the kitchen.
Her head was held high, like she was the victim here.
Like we were the ones who’d done something wrong.
Dr. Hale came downstairs a few minutes after that.
Her face was softer now, but still serious.
“Olivia’s shaken up, but physically the baby is okay for now,” she said.
“Those bruises are two to three weeks old in places.
The cut on her ankle is infected.
I want her at the hospital overnight for observation and antibiotics.
Stress is bad for the pregnancy, and she’s had enough of that to last a lifetime.”
I was on my feet before she finished.
“Let’s go.”
Upstairs, Olivia was sitting on the edge of the bed, a thin hospital gown draped over her shoulders.
She held her stomach with both hands, like she was shielding the baby from anything else that could hurt him.
When she saw me, she started crying again.
Hard, heaving sobs that shook her whole body.
I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around her.
Careful not to touch her legs.
Careful not to hurt her more.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered into her hair.
Over and over.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t see it.
I’m so sorry I let her hurt you.
I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.
Either of you.”
She clung to my shirt, her fingers twisting the fabric.
“I tried to tell you,” she sobbed.
“Every time I tried, she’d corner me when you left for work.
She’d kick my legs under the table.
Or push me into the wall when you were in the shower.
I was so scared she’d kill the baby.”
I held her tighter.
My own tears were falling now, hot and fast, into her hair.
I’d failed her.
May you like
Failed the both of them.
But I’d spend the rest of my life making it right.
