Chapter 9 - The Truth Unfolds
"Prison?" Margaret scoffed, following me down the hall. "Don't be ridiculous, Nathan! Who are the police going to believe? A respected pillar of the community who has donated thousands to the local charity board, or a hysterical little wife who can't even keep track of her own purse?"
I ignored her and walked up the staircase.
"Nathaniel, stop!" she commanded from the bottom of the steps. "You give me those papers right now! If you destroy that petition, Richard will just file a digital copy! You can't stop this! The judge is a personal friend of our family!"
I reached the top landing, walked over to our master bedroom, and tapped softly on the wood. "Hannah? It's me. Open the door."
A key turned in the lock. The door opened an inch, revealing Hannah’s red, tear-streaked face.
When she saw the documents and the phone in my hand, she pulled the door wide open. Emily was sitting on our bed, clutching her knees, watching with wide, solemn eyes.
"Nathan?" Hannah whispered.
I stepped inside, closed the door behind me, and handed her the phone, the car keys, and the platinum ring.
Hannah stared down at the ring resting in her palm. A choked sob broke from her chest, and she fell against me, clutching the jewelry against her heart as if it were a lost child.
"My ring," she wept. "She told me I dropped it down the storm drain. She told me I was so careless I didn't deserve to wear it."
"She lied about everything, Hannah," I said, putting my arms around her. "Look at me."
She looked up, her face exhausted and raw.
"You are not crazy. You are not sick. You never had an anxiety disorder." I pulled out the amber dropper bottle. "She has been slipping prescription tranquilizers into your chamomile tea every single night."
Hannah stared at the bottle, her eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated horror. "The... the tea?"
"It's Clonazepam," I explained gently. "A heavy sedative. That’s why you couldn't wake up in the mornings. That’s why your hands were shaking. That’s why you couldn't remember where you put your shoes or why you felt dizzy every afternoon. She was poisoning you to make you look mentally incompetent."
Hannah covered her mouth, her knees giving out. I caught her under the arms and helped her sit on the edge of the bed beside Emily.
"Why?" Hannah whispered, the word breaking in half. "Why would she do that to me? I tried so hard, Nathan. I baked for her friends. I ironed her dresses. I let her reorganize the kitchen because she said my taste was cheap. What did I ever do to her?"
"You didn't do anything to her, Mommy," Emily said softly, reaching over with her little hand to pat Hannah’s knee. "Grandma told me that when Mommy went away to the hospital, Grandma would buy me pony toys and we would never have to be messy again."
Hearing those words from our five-year-old child shattered whatever remaining restraint I had left.
"Pack one bag for you and Emily," I told Hannah, my voice hard as flint. "Just enough for tonight. We're going to a hotel down the street."
"What about your mother?" Hannah asked, trembling.
May you like
"My mother has exactly thirty minutes to clear her personal things out of my house," I said. "And if she isn't gone by then, she leaves in the back of a police cruiser."
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