Chapter 5
I ran into the trees. Branches whipped at my face. My dress was torn. My shoes were gone. I didn't stop.
The officer shouted behind me. I heard more voices. More sirens.
I kept running.
I knew these woods. I'd walked them a hundred times when I lived here. I knew the trails that didn't show up on maps. I knew the places to hide.
I found a hollow beneath an old oak tree and squeezed inside.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I could hear them searching. Calling my name. Flashlights swept through the trees.
I held my breath.
Minutes passed. Then hours.
The search party moved on.
I waited until it was dark. Until the only sounds were crickets and the distant ocean.
Then I crawled out.
My feet were cut and bleeding. My dress was ruined. I was a mess.
But I was free.
I started walking toward the lighthouse.
The moon was bright. It lit the coastal path. Every step hurt. Every step took me closer to answers.
I thought about Elodie. Calling me Mommy. Reaching for me.
I thought about the bruises on her wrist. The way she flinched when a glass spilled.
I thought about Harrison. Cold. Calculating. Controlling.
I thought about Celestine. Beautiful. Perfect. Hiding something terrible.
And I thought about the person who'd sent me that photograph. Who'd told me about the wedding. Who'd just told me to meet them at the lighthouse.
Who was helping me? And why?
The lighthouse came into view. It stood tall and dark against the night sky. The windows were broken. The door hung off its hinges.
I approached slowly.
"Hello?" I called out.
My voice echoed.
No answer.
I stepped inside. The floor was covered in broken glass and bird droppings. The air smelled like salt and rot.
A figure stood at the top of the spiral stairs, looking out at the ocean.
"I'm here," I said.
The figure turned.
Moonlight caught her face.
It was Margaret.
Harrison's mother.
My former mother-in-law.
The woman who'd testified against me in court. The woman who'd called me unfit. The woman who'd helped take my daughter away.
I froze.
"You?" I said.
Margaret descended the stairs. She wore a simple black dress. No jewelry. No makeup. She looked older than I remembered. Tired.
"Sit down, Maren," she said.
"I'm not sitting anywhere with you," I said. "You destroyed me."
"I know," she said. Her voice was quiet. Broken. "And I've regretted it every single day."
She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. She held it out to me.
"What is this?" I said.
"Proof," she said. "Of everything you suspected. Everything I helped Harrison hide."
I stared at the envelope.
"You sent the photograph," I said.
She nodded.
"I told you about the wedding."
Another nod.
"Why?" I whispered.
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
"Because I was wrong," she said. "About everything. And now Elodie is in danger. The same danger you tried to warn us about three years ago."
She pushed the envelope into my hands.
"Harrison isn't who you think he is," she said. "He's not who I thought he was. And Celestine... Celestine is even worse."
I opened the envelope.
Photographs fell out. Medical reports. Bank statements. Text message screenshots.
I picked up the first photograph.
It was Harrison. Standing over Elodie's crib. Three years ago. His hand raised.
The next was a medical report. Elodie, age one. Broken rib. "Accidental fall," the report said. But the notes in the margins—written by a nurse who'd had doubts—told a different story.
I looked up at Margaret.
"You knew," I said. My voice was cold.
"I suspected," she said. "I didn't want to believe it. He's my son."
"So you let me take the fall," I said. "You let everyone think I was crazy."
"I was a coward," she said. Tears streamed down her face. "I thought if I ignored it, it would go away. I thought if I blamed you, I could protect my son. And protect Elodie from the scandal."
She looked at me with raw, desperate eyes.
"But it's getting worse," she said. "The bruises. The fear. I heard Celestine yelling at her last week. Over nothing. Just a spilled cup of juice."
Margaret reached out and touched my arm.
"I need your help, Maren," she said. "I can't do this alone. If I go to the police, Harrison will destroy me. He'll say I'm senile. He'll say I'm lying for revenge."
She gestured to the papers in my hands.
"Those are copies," she said. "I have the originals. Hidden. Together, we can build a case. We can get Elodie back."
I looked at the photographs in my hands. At the evidence of three years of hell.
I looked at Margaret. The woman who'd broken me. The woman who was now begging for my help.
I had every reason to say no. Every reason to walk away and let her deal with the mess she'd helped create.
But I thought of Elodie. Calling me Mommy. Reaching for me.
"I'll help you," I said. "But if you betray me again—"
"I won't," Margaret said. "I swear it on my life. Elodie is my granddaughter. And I'm going to make this right."
We stood there in the abandoned lighthouse, two women who'd once been enemies, now bound by a single purpose.
May you like
We were going to save Elodie.
And we were going to bring Harrison and Celestine down.
