“It’s already sent,” I lied calmly, maintaining eye contact without flinching. “It’s sitting in the inbox of the headmaster at Aurelian Crest, the local child protective services division, and every major news outlet in the county. Unless I enter a safety confirmation code within the next ten minutes, those emails will automatically release.”
A heavy silence descended on the basement. The soft hum of the house’s climate control system was the only sound between us. For the first time in seven years, I watched the color drain from my husband’s face. The effortless superiority he had worn like armor was cracking, revealing the desperation underneath.
“Mara…” he began, his voice dropping an octave, trying to regain the gentle, persuasive tone he used whenever he wanted to control me. “Let’s talk about this upstairs. We can work something out. You don’t want to ruin Liora’s life over a misunderstanding.”
“Liora’s life was being ruined every single day she was forced to hide who her real mother was,” I said. “Step away from the stairs, Adrian.”
He didn’t move for a second, his mind clearly racing as he weighed his options. But the absolute certainty in my voice left no room for negotiation. Slowly, reluctantly, he took two steps back, clearing the path to the staircase.
I kept my eye on him as I backed toward the stairs, never lowering the phone. I climbed the steps quickly, reaching the main floor and making my way straight to Liora’s bedroom at the end of the hall.
The door was slightly ajar. Inside, Liora was sitting on the bench in front of her white upright piano, her small hands hovering over the keys, but she wasn’t playing. Tears were streaming silently down her cheeks, dripping onto the polished ivory keys.
When she heard my footsteps, she flinched, pulling her hands back into her lap. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, not looking up. “I’m practicing.”
“Liora,” I said softly.
She froze. She turned her head slowly, as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.
I stepped into the room, sank to my knees on the hardwood floor, and held out my arms. “It’s over, baby. You don’t have to practice anymore today.”
