Chapter 4 - WHAT MY MOTHER ERASEDThe second arrest happened two days later.
Not my father's.
My mother's.
She wasn't charged with pushing me.
She was charged with evidence tampering and obstruction after investigators recovered footage showing her standing beside Dad while he accessed the security server.
According to the timestamp, while I was lying in an ambulance fighting to keep my daughter alive, my parents were trying to erase proof.
That hurt more than I expected.
Maybe because somewhere deep inside, I had still been leaving my mother one final excuse.
Shock.
Denial.
Panic.
Anything.
The video took that excuse away.
She hadn't simply failed me.
She had chosen a side.
Grace improved slowly.
On day three, her oxygen requirement dropped.
On day four, I was allowed to hold her against my chest for nearly twenty minutes.
It was the first time I'd held my daughter.
I barely breathed.
Her entire body fit against me like a warm secret.
Daniel sat beside us.
“She's stubborn,” he whispered.
I smiled through tears.
“She gets that from me.”
“Hopefully only from you.”
I laughed for the first time since the fall.
For twenty beautiful minutes, my family consisted of three people.
And that was enough.
Then my phone rang.
Chloe.
I almost declined.
Daniel saw the name.
“You don't owe her anything.”
“I know.”
But curiosity won.
I answered.
“What?”
Chloe was crying.
Not delicate crying.
Messy, breathless sobs.
“Emily, you have to help.”
I looked at Grace.
“No.”
“You don't even know what I'm asking.”
“I can guess.”
“Mom got arrested!”
“Yes.”
“How can you sound so cold?”
I nearly laughed.
“Chloe, our father shoved me down a staircase while I was eight months pregnant. Mom helped him delete the video. What tone would make you comfortable?”
Silence.
Then she whispered, “Dad said you slipped.”
“You watched.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
“I didn't know what to do.”
“You could have told the truth.”
Another silence.
“Are you recording this?” I asked.
“No!”
The answer came too fast.
I looked at Daniel.
He pointed toward the phone and mouthed, End it.
Then Chloe said something that stopped me.
“Dad told me what Grandpa did.”
“What?”
“The company.”
Of course.
“He says you're stealing it.”
“I haven't taken anything.”
“He says Grandpa wasn't thinking clearly.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Grandpa is perfectly capable of making his own decisions.”
“Dad's lawyer says they can challenge him.”
“They?”
“Mom and Dad.”
“On what grounds?”
Chloe hesitated.
“Cognitive decline.”
I stood so abruptly that the NICU nurse looked over.
“What did you say?”
“Emily—”
“Grandpa isn't senile.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you saying that?”
“Because Dad wants us to sign statements saying Grandpa has been confused.”
Daniel heard enough.
His expression hardened.
“Chloe, listen carefully. Do not sign anything.”
“I already did.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Dad's attorney brought papers before Mom was arrested.”
“You signed a statement claiming Grandpa has dementia?”
“I didn't read all of it!”
“You are thirty-one years old!”
“I was scared!”
Her favorite excuse.
Always fear.
Always helplessness.
Always somebody else cleaning up the consequences.
Then Chloe lowered her voice.
“There was something else in the papers.”
“What?”
“A petition for emergency control of Grandpa's assets.”
My mouth went dry.
“Who filed it?”
“Dad.”
I looked at Daniel.
“He's trying to have Grandpa declared incompetent.”
Daniel stood.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Grandpa arrived at the hospital an hour later with his attorney, Margaret Sloan.
Margaret was sixty, sharp-eyed, and carried the sort of leather briefcase that seemed designed to frighten people.
She had represented Caldwell Manufacturing for twenty-three years.
“We anticipated Richard might challenge the succession plan,” she said.
“Did you anticipate this?”
“No.”
Grandpa sat beside my bed.
His fury had become quiet.
That scared me more.
“My own son wants a court to declare me incompetent.”
Margaret opened her briefcase.
“The petition includes affidavits from Richard, Evelyn, Chloe, and two employees.”
“Which employees?”
“Your father's executive assistant and the CFO.”
Grandpa laughed bitterly.
“Both owe their careers to Richard.”
Daniel crossed his arms.
“What happens now?”
“We respond.”
“Can Richard take control?”
“Not immediately.”
Margaret turned toward Grandpa.
“But we need to prove capacity.”
“Then prove it.”
“We will.”
My phone buzzed.
Another unknown message.
Same number.
Ask your grandfather about Project Northstar.
I frowned.
“What's Project Northstar?”
Grandpa went completely still.
Margaret looked at him.
“Henry?”
I held up the phone.
“Someone keeps sending me messages.”
Grandpa read it.
His hand tightened around his cane.
“Who sent this?”
“We don't know.”
“What is Northstar?”
He looked toward the NICU window.
For the first time since the nightmare began, my grandfather looked frightened.
“It's something your father should never have known about.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“What?”
Grandpa sighed.
“Six years ago, I created a private trust.”
“For what?”
“For Caldwell employees.”
I waited.
He continued.
“The company owns land outside Worcester that has increased enormously in value. Richard wanted to sell it to a developer and distribute the proceeds among shareholders.”
“And you?”
“I placed most of the land into a trust intended to fund employee pensions.”
I stared at him.
“How much is it worth?”
Margaret answered.
“Approximately eighty-four million dollars.”
My mouth opened.
Grandpa nodded.
“Richard hated the decision.”
“So what does Northstar have to do with this?”
“Northstar is the internal code name for the trust.”
I looked at the message again.
“If Dad knew about it…”
“He could have tried to interfere.”
Margaret closed her folder.
“We need to find out who is messaging Emily.”
That evening, Detective Morales returned.
I showed her everything.
She studied the unknown number.
“We traced it.”
“To whom?”
“It's a prepaid phone.”
“Of course.”
“But we traced where it was purchased.”
“Where?”
“A convenience store two blocks from Caldwell Manufacturing.”
Grandpa inhaled sharply.
Morales continued.
“And we recovered the full security backup from your parents' home.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“You said that already.”
“Not this part.”
She opened her tablet.
“Your staircase incident wasn't the first recording your father deleted.”
Grandpa frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Someone has been deleting footage from that system for almost eighteen months.”
My skin prickled.
“Footage of what?”
“We don't know yet.”
Then Morales looked at Grandpa.
“But several deletions happened on nights when you visited Richard's house to discuss company business.”
Grandpa's expression changed.
“What are you suggesting?”
May you like
Morales closed the tablet.
“I'm suggesting your granddaughter may not be the only person your son has been trying to silence.”
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