Chapter 4 - The ER Statement
The white fluorescent lights of the hospital emergency room stung my eyes as a young female doctor carefully placed seven stitches into the left side of my scalp.
A detective sat on a vinyl stool beside my bed, his notepad resting on his knee. His name tag read Det. Kowalski.
“Miss Caldwell,” Kowalski said softly, his voice calm amidst the chaos of the ER hallway. “The officers at the hotel recovered the weapon—the silver stand—and confiscated the security camera footage from the ballroom. The assault was captured clearly from two different angles.”
“Good,” I murmured, holding an ice pack against my swollen cheek.
“Your father was taken into custody at the scene,” Kowalski continued. “He claimed it was an accident. He said you tripped and hit your head on the table.”
I let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Two hundred people saw him swing it, Detective. And it’s on camera.”
“We know,” Kowalski said gently. “The prosecutor is already preparing charges for aggravated assault with a deadly weapon. But there’s another team here—agents from the FBI’s financial crimes unit. They want to speak with you about the documents you released.”
I nodded. “Tell them I’m ready.”
Before the detective could leave the curtained bay, the fabric was yanked open. Mom stood there, her hair disheveled, her expensive mascara running down her cheeks.
“Chloe!” she gasped, rushing toward my bed.
Detective Kowalski immediately stood up, placing himself between Mom and my bed. “Ma’am, you need to back up.”
“I’m her mother!” Mom yelled, her voice echoing down the hallway. “Chloe, please! You have to tell the police you lied! You have to drop the charges!”
I looked at her, feeling remarkably numb. “I can’t drop criminal charges, Mom. That’s up to the district attorney. And I wouldn't even if I could.”
“Your father is in a holding cell!” she sobbed, wringing her hands. “They locked him up like a common criminal! Do you have any idea what this will do to our social standing? The company is going to fail! We’ll lose the house!”
“The house was built with money stolen from his business partners, Mom,” I said coldly. “You knew, didn't you?”
Mom froze, her expression shifting from desperate grief to sudden, guilt-ridden panic.
“You knew he used my name to take out that four-million-dollar fraudulent loan three years ago,” I said, reading the answer in her eyes. “That’s why you kept telling me to be 'grateful' and 'obedient' whenever I asked about family finances.”
“We did it for the family, Chloe!” she pleaded, taking a half-step forward. “We did it to keep a roof over your head when you were in college!”
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“I paid for my own college with scholarships and student loans, Mom,” I reminded her, my voice dropping to a whisper. “You did it so you could keep driving a Range Rover and pretending to be rich.”
Detective Kowalski escorted her out as she screamed that I was an ungrateful daughter who deserved everything that happened to her.
