Chapter 4 - THE BLUE LEDGER
Grace slipped out of the bedroom like a ghost, her soft-soled shoes making no sound against the hardwood floors. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird as I stood guard near the top of the stairs, listening for any sign of Amanda in the kitchen below.
The house was eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic hum of the refrigerator downstairs and the muffled rush of water from Ethan's shower down the hall.
Grace darted into the guest room across the hall, slipping inside the walk-in closet. Less than two minutes later, she emerged holding a thick, leather-bound notebook with gold lettering on the spine. She hurried over to me, opening the cover under the dim hallway light.
My eyes scanned the elegant, slanting handwriting of my mother-in-law.
October 12: Nora refused to feed Lily for over four hours. Showed extreme detachment and apathy. I had to intervene.
October 18: Found Nora weeping uncontrollably in the nursery. Expressed thoughts of wanting to leave the baby behind and flee. Clear signs of severe postpartum depression with psychotic features.
October 24: Nora left the baby unattended on the changing table. A close call. I documented the incident for Ethan.
Every single entry was a lie.
On October 12th, Amanda had insisted on taking Lily for a walk in the stroller while I slept off a grueling 20-hour labor recovery. On October 18th, I was crying because my grandmother had just passed away. On October 24th, I hadn't even been in the house—I was at the pediatrician's office for Lily’s two-week checkup.
"She’s fabricating a legal diary," I whispered, disgust pooling in my throat. "She was going to present this to a judge alongside the staged bathtub video."
Suddenly, the shower water stopped.
"Go," I urged Grace. "Get to the study. I'll distract Ethan."
Grace clutched the blue ledger to her chest and slipped down the grand staircase toward the dark foyer, disappearing into the shadow of the study door.
I turned around and walked back toward the master bedroom, just as Ethan stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, drying his damp hair with another. He paused, his sharp eyes narrowing as he saw me standing near the threshold.
"What are you doing up, Nora?" he asked, his voice dripping with forced concern. "You need rest. You're looking exhausted."
"I'm fine, Ethan," I replied, standing my ground. "Where is my phone? And my car keys?"
Ethan sighed, shaking his head with a condescending smile. "I'm keeping them safe for now. You're not in a stable emotional state to be driving around in the middle of the night with a newborn. We're going to see a specialist tomorrow morning. A doctor Mom recommended. He handles severe postpartum cases."
"A doctor your mother recommended?" I stepped closer, my hands trembling with rage. "You mean a doctor who will write whatever diagnosis you pay him to write so you can steal Eleanor's trust fund?"
Ethan's smile faded instantly. The mask dropped completely, leaving a cold, hollow stare.
" Eleanor left thirty million dollars to a child," Ethan said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "Thirty million dollars, Nora. And she put you in charge of it—a woman who can barely handle the stress of a crying baby. Do you really think my family was going to stand by and watch you waste that fortune on your idealistic nonsense?"
"It's Lily's money!" I yelled.
"And Lily is my daughter," Ethan snapped, stepping right into my personal space. "Which means that money belongs to this family. You can either cooperate and take a quiet settlement, or we will make sure a judge declares you unfit, and you won't see Lily again until she's eighteen."
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Downstairs, a loud metallic CRACK echoed from the study.
Ethan froze, his head snapping toward the door. "What was that?"
