Chapter 2
Emily sat on the edge of her bed while I opened the box one piece at a time.
Her birthday card from February.
The book she had asked me about.
A photograph of her mother holding Emily as a newborn.
Two handwritten notes.
A small knitted blanket I had chosen after learning the baby was a boy.
Emily touched it and began crying.
“I thought you forgot.”
“I didn’t.”
“Ryan said you thought I was being dramatic.”
My jaw tightened.
“About what?”
“The pregnancy. The marriage. Everything.”
I looked toward the hallway.
Ryan and Linda were under guard now.
Good.
I returned my attention to Emily.
“What did they tell you when I called?”
“That you were busy.”
“And when you called me?”
Her face changed.
“Linda usually took my phone.”
There it was again.
Control disguised as convenience.
Emily explained that after the first serious argument with Ryan, Linda began spending nights at the apartment. She called it support.
What it became was supervision.
If Emily cried, Linda took the phone.
If she tried to leave, Ryan took the keys.
If she threatened to call me, they reminded her that I had “already chosen not to interfere.”
“And the locked room?”
Emily stared at her hands.
“At first they called it the guest room.”
“Then?”
“Ryan said I could come out when I calmed down.”
“How long?”
“Sometimes an hour.”
She swallowed.
“Once until morning.”
My hands curled.
She noticed.
“Dad, please.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“Don’t become so angry that everyone starts talking about you instead of what they did.”
That stopped me.
My daughter had been trapped in a room and was still thinking clearly enough to protect the truth from my rage.
I nodded.
“You’re right.”
Then I looked toward the hallway.
May you like
I did not need to destroy anything.
I needed answers.
