Chapter 3 - Fractured Trust
I stood up slowly, gently easing Chloe back down onto her bed. I smoothed her shirt over her bruised back, my hands shaking so violently I could barely button my own cuffs.
“Stay right here,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Lock this door behind me. Do not open it for anyone except me. Do you understand?”
She nodded, her wide eyes locked on mine with absolute, desperate trust.
I turned and unlocked the bedroom door, pulling it open to find Meredith standing there with her hand raised to knock. Her face was flushed, her evening dress elegant and expensive—a gift from my parents for our anniversary last month.
“What on earth are you doing in there with the door locked?” Meredith demanded, stepping past me into the room before I could block her path. “Chloe, sweetie, why aren’t you in your dress? We are going to be so late—”
“Meredith, stop,” I said, my voice dangerously low.
She froze, turning to look at me. The irritation on her face melted into confusion, then a practiced mask of concern. “Harrison? What’s wrong? You look pale.”
“Who invited my father to the recital?” I asked, staring straight into her eyes, searching for any flicker of deceit.
Meredith blinked, caught off guard. “What? Your mom and dad. They’re our parents, Harrison. They’ve been planning to come for weeks. Why are you asking like it’s a crime?”
“Did you know he’s been alone with Chloe?”
“Of course they spend time together. They’re her grandparents,” Meredith replied defensively, crossing her arms. “What is going on with you? Is this some kind of pre-recital panic attack?”
“He’s been hurting her, Meredith.”
The words dropped like a lead weight. For a long, agonizing moment, silence stretched between us. I watched Meredith’s face closely, waiting for horror, for denial, for rage.
Instead, her expression hardened into something cold and calculating.
“You’re out of your mind,” Meredith hissed, glancing nervously toward the hallway. “Keep your voice down! Do you want the neighbors to hear you accusing your own father of something sick?”
“I saw the bruises, Meredith!” I shouted, losing my grip on my temper. I grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “I saw the handprints on her back! She told me everything!”
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Meredith yanked herself out of my grip, her eyes flashing with sudden, venomous fury. “You are ruining everything! You have no idea what you’re meddling in, Harrison. If Richard finds out you’re accusing him, he’ll destroy us. He’ll take everything!”
The blood drained from my face. She didn’t look shocked. She didn’t look like a mother defending her child from abuse. She looked like an accomplice whose cover had just been blown.
