Chapter 3 - The One Thing I Had Actually Done
At the hospital, they checked the baby.
Heart rate.
My blood pressure.
Bruising on my shoulder.
Nothing graphic.
Nothing broken.
The baby was okay.
That sentence should have fixed the night.
It didn't.
Rachel sat beside the bed while Owen and Maisie stayed with our mother two floors away in a family waiting area.
She had found me clean clothes.
She had found a charger.
She had found another attorney.
That last one offended me.
“You're my lawyer.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
She folded her arms.
“I’m your sister, a witness to tonight, and the person who received the SOS. I am not pretending I can be objective enough to handle every part of this.”
“You handle divorces.”
“I handle other people's divorces.”
“You said you'd help me.”
“I am helping you.”
She handed me a business card.
“Caroline Voss. Family law. Very good. No personal history with Grant.”
I placed it on the blanket.
“I don't want a divorce tonight.”
“You don't have to want one tonight.”
“Then stop building one.”
Rachel stared at me.
“You still think preparing for something causes it.”
I looked away.
She softened.
Only slightly.
“The police saw an assault. The children heard things. There is a recording. Whatever you decide about your marriage later, tonight already happened.”
I knew.
That was why I'd hidden the phone.
She looked at me.
“How long has he been telling the kids you're scary?”
“I don't know.”
“What does he mean by it?”
I said nothing.
Rachel noticed.
“Natalie.”
“There was one night.”
Her face changed.
“What night?”
“Last month.”
“With Grant?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
I picked at the edge of the hospital blanket.
“I found messages.”
“Sloane?”
“Yes.”
“First time you knew?”
“First time I had proof.”
Rachel waited.
“I threw his phone.”
“Where?”
“Against the wall.”
“Was anyone hit?”
“No.”
“Were the kids there?”
“Owen heard it.”
Rachel leaned back.
“You didn't tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you'd do this.”
“What?”
“Turn it into evidence.”
She stared.
“Grant did that before I knew it happened.”
I hated the truth of that.
I had thrown the phone.
I had screamed.
Grant had stood there saying almost nothing while I lost control.
At the time, I thought his calmness meant guilt.
Now I remembered one sentence.
“Do that again.”
Not stop.
Not Natalie, calm down.
Do that again.
I looked at Rachel.
“He wanted me to.”
“What?”
“The phone.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
I remembered Grant picking up the shattered pieces afterward.
He had photographed the mark on the wall.
I had assumed it was because the phone was expensive.
Rachel asked:
“Did he threaten you?”
“Not exactly.”
“What exactly?”
I closed my eyes.
“He said nobody was ever going to believe I was the stable one.”
Rachel was silent.
I continued.
“I thought he was trying to hurt me.”
“He probably was.”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“I think he was telling me something.”
Rachel's jaw tightened.
“He'd already started a story.”
My phone buzzed on the hospital tray.
Not Grant.
An email.
Subject:
NOTICE OF EMERGENCY FAMILY COURT FILING
Rachel saw my face.
“What?”
I handed her the phone.
She read.
Then stopped.
“What?”
Her eyes moved over the screen again.
“Natalie.”
“What?”
“This was submitted before tonight.”
My chest tightened.
“How long before?”
She turned the screen toward me.
Timestamp.
3:42 p.m.
Nearly four hours before Sloane walked into our kitchen.
Grant had filed papers asking for temporary exclusive custody of Owen and Maisie.
His stated reason:
“Escalating maternal volatility creating an unsafe environment in the marital home.”
May you like
Tonight's attack hadn't caused the filing.
The filing had been waiting for tonight.
Related Stories
