Chapter 7 - CONFRONTING THE NURSING LIE
The plan was set. While Marcus coordinated with the local precinct’s domestic intervention unit, I called our house landline. The phone rang three times before Vivian answered it with her practiced, sweet grandmotherly lilt. “Hello, Daniel darling? Everything is wonderful here. Just putting Oliver down for a nap, and Emma is resting peacefully.” Her voice was steady, dripping with the confidence of someone who believed she had total control of the narrative. “Mom,” I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “Put Emma on the phone right now.” There was a brief pause on the line. I could hear her shifting position. “Oh, she’s sleeping soundly, Daniel, you know how exhausted she gets.” “I said, put my wife on the phone, Vivian,” I repeated, dropping the "Mom" entirely. The ice in my tone finally registered. “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s— ” “I am sitting three blocks away looking at a live feed of you standing in her bedroom while she cleans up the medicine you shattered on the floor,” I interrupted, every word landing like a hammer strike.
