Chapter 3: The Trap Had Been Set Long Ago

I grabbed the handle of the suitcase.

"When?"

The social worker frowned. "Ms. Bell, please do not interfere with the transfer."

I didn't let go. I just stared at Graham.

"When did you register Tessa as the backup caregiver?"

Startled by our tone, Maisie shrank back into Tessa's arms. Tessa held her tighter, as if making sure everyone could see who was holding Maisie now.

Graham tugged at the gold sash on his chest.

"Last Independence Day."

He said it with a terrifying calm.

"Tessa dared me. She wanted to see if I'd give her a place that truly belonged to the Veale family. I only signed a backup form. How was I supposed to know it would actually be used today?"

"So all of this was planned."

"Don't make it sound so ugly," he said, his voice low. "It's just temporary care. Once the investigation is over, Maisie will come back."

I looked at him.

"You committed perjury. You fabricated a custodial risk. Do you have any idea what that means?"

"Of course I do."

Graham took a step toward me.

"The Veale family legal team can prove you're a perfectly fit mother, and they can also prove you should never be allowed near a child. Which story they tell depends entirely on how cooperative you are from here on out."

My hand slowly went slack.

The social worker immediately pulled the suitcase away and gave it to Tessa.

Tessa took Maisie's hand and led her toward the elevator.

Maisie looked back at me, tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Mommy, aren't you coming with me?"

I started after her, but Graham stepped in front of me again.

"Don't scare her."

"Get out of my way!"

Heads turned all along the hallway.

He frowned, as if I were the one making a scene.

"Go home. We'll talk about this behind closed doors. Don't stand out here and humiliate the family."

I ignored him and called the DCF caseworker's office directly.

The call was transferred twice before the caseworker finally picked up.

"I want to request immediate visitation with Maisie. While she's in temporary placement, I have the right to see her."

There was a pause on the other end.

"Ms. Bell, based on the evidence submitted by Mr. Veale and today's court record, your visitation rights have been suspended."

"What evidence?"

"Evidence relating to alcohol use, emotional instability, and potential risk to a minor. You'll need to request the full file through your attorney."

"It's all fake! Graham just admitted—"

"I'm sorry. Until the investigation is complete, we cannot proceed on your word alone. All future communication must go through legal counsel."

I tightened my grip on the phone.

"Who requested the suspension?"

Another pause.

"Mr. Veale. He stated he was concerned you might attempt to contact the child privately and interfere with the investigation."

The line went dead.

Graham stood a few feet away, not a flicker of surprise on his face.

This was what he'd meant by going home to talk.

He'd never intended to talk. He was just stalling for time.

This wasn't a spur-of-the-moment dare.

Before I ever set foot in that courtroom, he had already arranged the accusation, the investigation, and the restraining order that were waiting for me on the other side.

I drove back to the townhouse alone.

Graham arrived ten minutes later.

He was still on the phone with a lawyer when he walked in, telling them to contain the story so the hearing wouldn't damage the foundation.

I rushed over and snatched the phone from his hand.

"Withdraw the testimony. Reinstate my visitation. Now."

He grabbed the phone back, irritation flashing across his face.

"If I withdraw it now, I'm admitting I lied."

"You did lie!"

"I just wanted to make sure this was handled perfectly."

He untied the sash and tossed it onto the sofa.

"Relax. Once things calm down, I'll have my lawyer deal with it."

"Tessa already took Maisie!"

"Tessa is helping."

His face turned to ice.

"Don't be jealous just because she handles a crisis better than you do."

I looked at the man I had lived with for seven years and felt like I was staring at a stranger.

"I'm calling the police."

I pulled out my phone.

The moment I dialed, Graham's hand clamped down on my wrist.

"Do you really have to blow this up?"

"Let go!"

I tore my arm free, but he snatched my phone and hurled it against the fireplace.

The screen shattered on impact and went black.

I stood there in shock for a second, then turned for the landline on the wall.

He had already hit the switch for community security.

Less than three minutes later, two security guards were at our door.

Graham pointed at me, his voice as cool and detached as if he were dealing with an intruder.

"She's emotionally unstable. She entered my residence without permission and attempted to assault me. Please remove her."

"This is my home!"

I lunged for the stairs, but the two guards seized me by the arms.

I twisted, struggling against their grip.

"Graham, you are going to pay for what you did today!"

He stood under the foyer light, not moving, not explaining.

The front door slowly closed in my face.

Just before it latched, I heard him tell the guards:

"Let her cool off. She just needs some space."