Chapter 2

Evelyn POV:

Consciousness returned not as a gentle dawn but as a slow, agonizing crawl through a fog of pain. For a blissful moment, I thought it was a nightmare. A horrible, vivid dream. I tried to wriggle my toes, a small, secret test I' d done since I was a child to prove I was awake. My left toes wiggled. My right... nothing. Just a dull, hollow echo.

The smell hit me next. Antiseptic and bleach. A hospital.

I forced my eyes open. The world swam into a blurry focus of white walls and humming machines. I was in a private room. Sunlight streamed through a large window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.

My gaze traveled down my body, under the crisp white sheet. My left leg was propped on a pillow. My right leg was encased in a monstrous framework of metal pins and rods, a brutal piece of architecture holding together what was left of my shattered bone.

Hollis.

The thought was a jolt of electricity, clearing the fog in an instant. Where was she? Was she safe?

I fumbled for the call button, my hands clumsy and weak. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. My purse was gone, my phone was a memory of broken glass on a concrete floor.

Then I heard voices from the hallway, just outside my partially open door. Soft, conspiratorial whispers.

"Will Mommy still be able to walk?"

It was Hollis' s voice. My heart seized in my chest, a knot of pure, primal relief. She was safe. She was here.

Then Eugene' s voice, low and soothing. "The doctors say it was a very bad break, sweetie. It will take a long time to heal. It was the only way. You understand that, right? She was going to leave us. She was going to take you away from me."

My blood ran cold. The only way? What did he mean?

"Will she be in a wheelchair?" Hollis asked, her voice small.

"For a while, probably," Eugene replied. "But it' s for the best. Now she can' t leave. We can all be a family again. With Brenna."

The name landed like a physical blow.

"I was so scared, Daddy," Hollis whispered. "When those men pretended to grab me in the park. It felt real."

"You were very brave," Eugene said, his voice thick with pride. "You did exactly what we rehearsed. You made Mommy believe you were in danger so she would go to the warehouse. You were the star of the show."

A star. My daughter was the star of a show designed to cripple me.

"It' s okay," Hollis said, her voice brightening, the childish fear evaporating into something chillingly casual. "I like Brenna better anyway. She' s prettier than Mommy. And she lets me eat all the candy I want. Mommy never lets me have candy."

A dry, silent sob clawed its way up my throat, but no sound came out. My body was paralyzed, but my mind was screaming. The pain in my leg was a distant throb compared to the gaping, cavernous wound that had just been torn open in my chest.

This wasn' t a kidnapping. It was a setup. A trap. And my own child, my beautiful eight-year-old daughter, had been the cheese.

My husband. My daughter. My scholarship recipient.

A trinity of betrayal, so complete, so absolute, it felt biblical. I thought of the old fable, the one my grandmother used to tell me. The farmer who finds a frozen snake and takes it home to warm it by his fire, only to have it strike him dead with its venom the moment it revives.

I had warmed three snakes by my fire. I had nourished them with my love, my money, my life. And they had repaid me with a venom more deadly than any poison.

A nurse bustled in, followed by two uniformed police officers. Their faces were grim.

"Mrs. Blair? I' m Detective Miller. This is Officer Chen. We' re here to ask you a few questions about your assault."

Behind them, Eugene and Hollis entered the room. Eugene rushed to my bedside, his face a perfect mask of anguish. He grabbed my hand, his touch like a brand of fire.

"Oh, Evelyn. My God. When I found you... I thought..." He buried his face in the sheets, his shoulders shaking with manufactured sobs.

Hollis stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes wide and wet with crocodile tears. She looked like a perfect little angel of grief.

"We' re going to find the animals who did this to you, Mrs. Blair," Detective Miller said, his voice gentle but firm. "We promise. We will get them."

Eugene lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed and fierce. "Anything you need, Detective. Anything. We won' t rest until these monsters are behind bars."

He squeezed my hand. I looked at his handsome, lying face. I looked at my daughter, her sweet, treacherous face. I looked at the detective, his earnest, clueless face.

The world had become a stage, and I was the only one who had just been handed the real script. Everyone else was still performing a play I no longer had any part in.

Detective Miller turned to me, his notepad ready. "Mrs. Blair, can you tell us what happened?"

I took a slow, rattling breath. I could feel Eugene' s grip tighten on my hand, a silent warning. I met his gaze, my eyes as cold and dead as a winter sky.

"Ask my husband," I said, my voice a raw whisper. "He seems to know everything."

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