Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

HER — PRESENT DAY

When my daughter comes into the world, I am alone.

Technically, I’m surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses, none of whom I know, but in all the ways that matter, I am alone. The sounds of her cries are quite possibly the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard, instantly erasing whatever agonizing pain I was in before.

The doctor places her on my chest, and I stare down at her, searching for signs of myself. For proof that she’s mine, and she’ll always be mine. Tears blur my vision, smearing her image. She’s a screaming pink bundle of joy, and none of her features look anything like me yet, but they don’t look like Cal either.

Someday, when I look at her, will I see her father’s face?

A nurse asks if I’d like a photo of the two of us, and she takes my phone and snaps the picture. In it, I can see the bright purple outline of Cal’s fingers around my neck, proof that he almost made sure this moment never happened. Proof of everything he nearly stole.

The nurse asks if there are any family or friends in the waiting room I need her to get for me, but I suspect she already knows the answer as she smooths down my hair, her gaze flicking guiltily to my neck every few seconds.

“She’s beautiful,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the baby’s head. “Congratulations, Momma.”

I smile, but the word still feels a bit foreign to me. Someday, I will be her momma, but today, I feel too lost to be anyone’s mom. Today, I feel too lost to be anything.

When the door opens, my heart skips a beat and falls just as quickly as I see the police officers from earlier entering the room. The nurse looks at me warily. “She just had a baby. Surely this can wait.”

“This’ll just take a second,” the first officer says.

Slowly, reluctantly, the nurse leaves, and when we’re alone, the officer draws nearer to me. “I wanted you to know Calvin Moon survived the accident, so no murder charges will be filed.” My whole body goes numb. “I’ll let him decide whether to apprise you of his medical state, but until he contacts you, I’d suggest you stay away from him. He still has the option to press charges for assault and battery.” His gaze rakes over me. “Would you like to press charges against him?”

I swallow. As much as I can help it, I don’t want today to be tainted by Calvin any more than it already has. “No.”

“You sure?” the second officer asks, his brown eyes narrowing at me. Maybe this will make him think I’m the guilty one or that I have something to hide. Maybe I don’t care at this moment.

When the officers leave a few minutes later, we’re alone again, and I feel myself falling asleep as my daughter suckles at my breast. What feels like every few seconds, the nurses come in to press on my stomach or check this or that, but for the most part, we’re just alone.

Just me and her.

For the longest time, alone felt scary, but now, it’s the greatest sense of peace I’ve ever known.

When the door opens later, ripping me from sleep, I pull the baby closer to me, protecting her from whatever monster might be lurking.

As Janelle walks in, her blonde hair has been pulled back in a low ponytail, and she looks as scared as a deer in headlights. Her big blue eyes stare at me with quiet questions.

“Is she…okay?”

I nod. I don’t owe her any answers, but I’m acutely aware I only made it to this moment because of her. Despite what she’s done, that means something to me.

“Did they tell you about Calvin?”

Again, I nod. “Have you seen him? What are you going to do?”

“Yeah, I saw him. He’s in room four seventeen, so pretty far away. He won’t be able to bother you. I already told them what happened. That it was self-defense.” She pauses. “He said it was a heated moment that got out of hand. He wouldn’t admit to what he did to you, but he’s not pressing charges, either.”

That doesn’t sound like Cal. Giving up. Giving in. I just hope he doesn’t change his mind once he’s out of the hospital. “I don’t know if I ever said thank you for what you did. I don’t know if, if you hadn’t done what you did, I don’t know if I’d…” I choke back tears. “Just…thank you.”

She nods slowly, eyes down. “Sadie, I don’t even know what to say to you right now. I’m so sorry about everything.”

“I know,” I tell her. I don’t say it’s okay because I’m not sure it is. I’m not sure it will ever be. All this time, I was so terrified Janelle might reveal my secret to Cal—that I had cheated on him during the beginning of our relationship, that without our daughter, I might not have chosen him—and now I know his secret was so much worse. “I’m not going to give her to him. I’ll fight him with everything I have.”

“I hope you win,” she says, her voice soft. “I truly do.”

I don’t like how unsure she sounds. Instinctively, my hands tighten around her. “She’s mine.”

“She’s beautiful,” she says.

“Why did you lie to me? Why did Cal tell me you were his daughter? Why did you play the part?” It doesn’t matter. Really, it doesn’t. And for all I know, everything she tells me could be a lie. But I need to ask. I have to have an explanation for it all.

She looks at the ground, shuffling her feet. “I was worried about you. I hated myself for not warning you when I had the chance. And when I found the research Cal was doing, I did the only thing I thought I could do—I asked him if I could start coming around. He didn’t think it was a good idea at first, but I was insistent. I told him I just wanted to be a part of it. That I needed to feel closer to everything that was happening.” Finally, she meets my eyes. “We came up with the plan ourselves. The easiest way for me to be involved and around you without you being suspicious about who I was. I thought if I could be around, could get you alone, I knew you’d want answers once you realized who I was. I thought if we could, I don’t know, maybe I could try to tell you what was happening…somehow. If you even believed me. It wasn’t a good plan, but if anything happened to you because of me, I’d never forgive myself.”

I glance down at my daughter, pulling the blanket around her face. “And the house? Our picture, the lamp? Did you do that, too?”

She fills her lungs with a deep, shaky breath. “I couldn’t let you be alone with him until I could convince him the plan was bad. I went to visit him at the school, and I asked him to come today because I was begging him not to go through with it. I wanted you two to leave the apartment because I couldn’t guarantee your safety there. I thought if you were somewhere more public, like a hotel, you’d be safe. Saf er , anyway. I kept texting you, hoping you’d unblock my number so I could warn you, but you never responded.” She swallows and steps forward, pulling a piece of paper from her back pocket. Unfolding it, she hands it over to me. “For the record, I don’t think you’re safe even now. As long as you have what he wants. I still think you should leave. Get as far away from here as possible. But…maybe this will help.”

I read over the document slowly, noticing Cal’s scratchy notes at the bottom. As realization sweeps over me, tears blur my eyes. It’s just a piece of the research she mentioned before. Just a hint of what he was planning, and it’s atrocious.

“He was going to kill me,” I whisper, still unable to believe it, even seeing it in his own handwriting. “He was going to take the baby and leave me to bleed out.”

“You were never married,” she says. “In Tennessee, that means he has no rights to the baby unless he files a petition with the court for paternity. To do that would be messy. It would make him look less than perfect. I think that’s why he was planning—” She cuts herself off. “I think that’s why his plans changed. He had all these notes in his cloud when I went searching. He’s been planning this for a long time. But he won’t fight you in court. That would be—” She smiles to herself. “That would be against the plan .”

It’s a sad smile that crosses my lips as I realize she might be right. “What will happen to you?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I’m filing for divorce, obviously, but after that…” She puffs out a long breath. “I’m not sure yet.”

“You could come with me.” I don’t know where the offer comes from, except that my eyes are suddenly filled with tears. I don’t know if I forgive her or if I ever will, but she’s a victim in this, too. She’s also the only reason I’m alive.

She doesn’t meet my eyes, looking at the baby in my arms instead. “I wish I could, but I have things to take care of here. Maybe…maybe let me know where you end up, and I’ll find you.”

She reaches out and takes my hand, tears now falling down her own cheeks as she glances at the baby again. “She’s a lucky girl, you know? To have such a strong mother.”

“I’m not strong,” I argue through my tears. “I should’ve seen him—should’ve seen this —coming long before now.”

She presses her lips together, looking away. “Calvin is good at making people see what they want to see, but you came to our house, you followed him, because you sensed that something was wrong. If you hadn’t…I’m not sure what would’ve happened. I don’t know that I would’ve ever been able to convince him to stop.”

I stare down at my daughter, fast asleep in my arms. “We’re going to be okay,” I tell her. And Janelle. And myself.

“He didn’t break us,” Janelle adds, already backing up toward the door.

I meet her eyes. “And he never will.”

She brushes a tear from her cheek. “Take care of yourself, Sadie.”

“You too,” I whisper, my voice choked with sobs. For the first time, I don’t mind the tears.

When she closes the door, I kiss my daughter’s nose, realizing that I still need to give her a name. For the first time, it hits me that the decision is entirely up to me. I no longer have to listen to Cal’s pros and cons list for every name he prefers. “He didn’t break us, Amelia.” My mother’s name. The woman who gave me my strength. The woman I feel here beside me, inside me, even when she can’t be.

Later that night, when Amelia is asleep, I place her in the clear bassinet next to the bed, and we go for a walk. The hallway is empty and quiet as I pad down the hall toward the room Janelle mentioned Cal is staying in—417.

My hands shake as I push open the door. I’m exhausted and in pain, but I’m not weak. If anything, I feel stronger than I have in a long time. Strong enough for this.

In comparison, on the bed, he looks almost frail. His eyes are closed, his chest is rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. Already, Janelle told me, he’s confirmed to the police that he won’t be pressing charges. He’s told them what happened. His version of it anyway. A version that leaves Janelle and me as innocent as he is.

I could walk away from all of this.

I run it through my head. He shouldn’t press charges, but somehow, I know him better than that. Even if the battle isn’t legal, Cal won’t go down without a fight. Janelle was right. My instincts are right. He won’t just let us disappear.

This is the only way.

I look around for something to use, and I find it when my eyes land on a tray with a roll of gauze, tape, and medical scissors. With trembling hands, I grab the scissors and approach his bed.

Cautiously, I touch his fingers. This is the same hand that has held mine so many times, the hand that has prepared my meals, the hand that was wrapped around my throat just hours ago.

If I think too much, I’ll chicken out. I glance at my daughter.

I’m doing this for her. For us.

With that thought, I lift the scissors and press them into his skin. With a fluid motion, I slice them down his wrist. Dark blood immediately pours out. His heart monitor begins to beep faster, and his eyes flutter open.

He looks left, right, his eyes finding focus as he checks his wrist, the source of the pain. The next thing he sees is my face, my smile, as I hold our daughter in my arms.

Almost like my body is proving a point, blood passes between my legs at once, spilling onto the floor. It’s further proof that she’s mine, that I went through the brutal work to bring her into this world. And that she’ll never be his.

His panicked eyes flick from me to the baby, and I place her down again in the bassinet seconds before he opens his mouth. I know him—know exactly what he’s going to do next.

There’s something beautiful about knowing someone in this way.

I grab the pillow from under his head and cover his face. His hand reaches, stretching for the button to call a nurse, but I’m stronger right now. I’m strong enough to do this.

He thrashes around, fighting to force the pillow away from his face, but he’s weak. His motions are drugged and sloppy with sleep, injury, and whatever pain medication they have him on.

It’s funny, in the end, that despite both being brutally injured and in pain today, he was clearly given something strong enough to knock him out, while I was hardly given more than over-the-counter pain medication, and that will be the thing that saves me.

The fight lasts longer than I expected. It’s brutal, nasty work taking someone out of this world, almost as tough as bringing someone into it.

I hold the pillow over his face until he stops fighting. By the time he does, I’m sweaty and exhausted.

My heart pounds in my chest from the exertion as I carefully place the pillow back under his head and wipe the scissors off—clearing away my fingerprints—before laying the scissors in his opposite hand. His eyes are wide open, and I press them closed, stepping back. Blood still seeps from the deep wound on his wrist, down the bed, soaking into the mattress, and down onto the floor.

This man gave me my greatest blessing, and I will forever remember him as my greatest curse. These two things will remain true in my mind—agonizing and contradictory.

In the end, he left me with no choice.

He did this to himself . I repeat my story in my head. I came to see him, to show him his daughter, to try to forgive, and I found him like this.

Even if the officers don’t want to believe me, there will never be any proof. It will always be just my word against a dead guy’s, and if there’s one thing Cal taught me, it’s how to be a damn good liar. I’ve spent the last nine months practically receiving a masterclass in it.

Step One: Always have a plan.

When there’s enough blood spilled to have killed him. When there’s no doubt of what happened and how he did this to himself, clearly overcome with the guilt of what happened today, I open my mouth.

Then, with all of my strength—because I am strong—I begin to scream.