Chapter 4

I read the text again, and then a third time. The words burned into my brain, each one a separate, calculated act of cruelty.

"I didn't even slow down. Did you hear the bump? It was so small. I wasn't even sure I'd hit anything until I saw your face in the rearview mirror. You looked so funny, all screaming and frantic."

A wave of nausea washed over me. She was describing the worst moment of my life as if it were a scene from a movie she found amusing.

The text continued.

"And for all my trouble? A 'not guilty' verdict and a new life with your husband. He's so much more generous than you know. He paid all my legal fees with the money from that joint account you thought was for Lily's college fund. I guess she won't be needing it now, will she?"

The air was punched from my lungs. Our savings. The money we had carefully put aside, the little bit I had managed to contribute from my part-time job. He had used it to free her killer.

But the next part was the worst. The part that turned my grief into white-hot rage.

"David planned the whole defense, you know. He was brilliant. He told me exactly what to say, how to cry for the jury. He even got a guy to fix the front of my car before the cops could impound it. He said it was just a little 'evidence management.' He's very good at his job."

There it was. Conspiracy. Obstruction of justice. It wasn't just that he defended her; he was her accomplice from the very beginning. The text was proof.

The message ended with a final, twisting stab.

"You were always just the cop's daughter, trying to play in a world you don't understand. I'm a Davis. David knows the difference. He chose the winning team."

The cop's daughter. My father had been a hero, a man who died serving the city. David used to say he admired him. Now his lover was using my father's memory as an insult.

I thought of all the years I had sacrificed for David. I put my own plans to become a teacher on hold so he could finish law school. I managed our home, raised our daughter, and supported his career, believing we were building a life together. For us. For Lily.

What a fool I had been. My love hadn't just been blind; it had been a blindfold I willingly wore.

A primal anger surged through me, so powerful it felt like it could snap my bones. I ripped the IV needle from the back of my hand, ignoring the sharp sting of pain. I didn't care.

I threw off the thin hospital blanket, my flimsy gown offering no protection against the cold air. I didn't feel it. All I felt was the burning fire of the words on my phone.

I walked out of that hospital room without looking back. I didn't sign any papers. I didn't talk to a nurse. I hailed the first taxi I saw and gave the address of the downtown police precinct.

The phone felt heavy in my hand, a weapon.

At the front desk, a tired-looking sergeant looked up at me, his eyes taking in my hospital gown and disheveled appearance.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

"I have new evidence," I said, my voice shaking but clear. "In the hit-and-run case of my daughter, Lily Miller."

I pushed my phone across the counter, the screen still lit up with Chloe's monstrous words. The sergeant picked it up. He started to read, his bored expression slowly changing to one of shock, then horror. His eyes widened.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered, looking up at me. "We need to get a detective down here right away."

A flicker of hope ignited in my chest. For the first time in months, someone was listening. Someone believed me.

Just as the sergeant reached for his radio, the main doors of the precinct swung open.

David stood there, his face a thundercloud. Someone must have called him. A lawyer. A contact. Someone on his payroll.

He strode over to the desk, his presence filling the small space.

He didn't look at me. He looked at the sergeant.

"Officer," he said, his voice calm and authoritative. "I'm David Chen. This is my wife, Sarah. She's been under a great deal of emotional distress since our daughter's accident. I'm afraid she isn't well. She's having delusions, fabricating things. That phone message? She sent it to herself."