Chapter 5 – What He Didn’t Know
Inside the envelope were photographs of Ella’s feet, her wrists, the snow outside my door, the timestamped security footage from my porch, and copies of six emails Beckett had sent to a private psychiatrist, paying for language that would make Ella sound delusional.
His face changed by a millimeter.
Enough.
“You hacked me?” he snapped.
“No,” I said. “You used my law firm’s old document portal to send drafts to your attorney. The one you thought was inactive.”
Preston’s mouth opened.
“I founded that firm,” I said. “And I still chair its ethics committee.”
The kitchen went very still.
Beckett recovered first. “None of that proves abuse.”
“No,” I said. “But the recording from last night does.”
Ella lifted her chin.
I slid my phone onto the table and pressed play.
Beckett’s voice filled the room, cold and drunk with power.
May you like
“Stand outside until you learn gratitude. Cry all you want. Nobody will believe you.”
For the first time since I opened the door, my daughter smiled.
It was small.
It was lethal.
