Chapter 10 - What Vanessa Wanted Before The Baby
Vanessa watched the video in the interrogation room without blinking.
I sat across from her.
“You knew Damian was in that suite,” I said.
“Yes.”
“You drugged me and sent me there.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She picked at a loose thread on her sleeve.
“Because he rejected me.”
The answer was so small compared to the damage that I almost did not understand it.
“That’s it?”
“I thought if you were found with him, the scandal would destroy both of you. Father always liked you more.”
“Our father barely noticed either of us.”
“He noticed you without trying.”
I stared at her.
There was no sympathetic explanation hiding underneath. No noble motive twisted by pressure. She had wanted to hurt me because she was jealous.
Then I became pregnant.
Regina and Charles transformed Vanessa’s cruelty into a business plan.
“You could have stopped it after Noah was born.”
“I wanted Damian.”
“You didn’t have him.”
“I had his name.”
“You locked his son in a basement.”
Her mouth tightened. “He loved that boy more in five seconds than he loved me in five years.”
“He did not know how to love you because neither of you told the truth.”
“Did he love you?”
The question surprised me.
“No.”
“Will he?”
“I’m not here to talk about Damian.”
She smiled faintly. “You always were bad at lying.”
I stood.
Vanessa pressed both hands to the glass. “Emily.”
I stopped.
“I am sorry.”
I looked back.
She seemed to be waiting for absolution, or at least a softer face.
“You should be,” I said.
Then I left.
The new evidence added charges of conspiracy, assault, kidnapping, falsification of medical records, and child endangerment. Julian tried to bargain by offering offshore account records. Regina, recovering in custody, offered testimony against Charles in exchange for a reduced sentence.
Everyone suddenly remembered morality when prison became real.
I focused on the twins.
Noah hoarded food. Mia hid her shoes beneath the bed so no one could send her away quickly. They fought over crayons and slept holding hands.
One morning, Noah spilled milk and froze.
His face went blank. His shoulders rose.
I reached for a towel.
He whispered, “How many days?”
“What?”
“How many days no dinner?”
I sat on the floor beside the spill.
“Zero.”
He watched me wipe it.
“Even if I do it again?”
“Still zero.”
He knocked the cup over on purpose.
Milk spread across the floor.
I closed my eyes.
Mia gasped.
Noah waited.
I handed him a towel. “Now you help.”
His mouth twitched.
Not a smile. Almost.
Damian arrived during the cleanup and stepped directly into the milk.
His expensive shoe made a wet squeak.
Mia laughed so hard she fell against the cabinet.
He looked at me. “I assume this is a family ritual.”
“We’re still designing it.”
He removed his shoes and helped.
For several weeks, he came every day. He learned Noah hated peas but liked pea soup, which made no sense. He learned Mia could read far above her age but pretended not to when adults watched. He burned pancakes. He once sent Noah to school wearing pajama pants under his uniform because he did not notice.
The children began calling him Dad by accident, then pretending they had not.
I began trusting him in inches.
Then Marcus arrived with evidence that stopped everything.
A transfer of ten million dollars had been made from Damian’s personal account to Regina three days after the twins were born.
The authorization used Damian’s biometric signature.
It could not have been forged.
I looked at him.
“You paid her.”
Damian stared at the document.
“I don’t remember this.”
I stepped back.
May you like
That answer had already destroyed my life once.
