Chapter 3 - The Woman at the Door
Dana Mercer did not enter the house like someone looking for a villain.
She entered like someone who had learned never to trust appearances.
Richard respected that.
Under normal circumstances, he would have admired it.
Tonight, he hated every second of it.
“We received a report alleging possible child neglect, unsafe living conditions, and emotional instability within the household,” Dana explained.
Richard stared.
“From whom?”
“I can’t disclose the reporter.”
Camille stepped forward.
“This is terrible.”
Richard looked at her.
Her performance was flawless.
One hand against her chest.
Concern in her eyes.
Voice trembling at exactly the right level.
“I had no idea anyone had called.”
“You had no idea?” Richard said.
Dana looked between them.
“Mr. Hale, I need everyone to remain calm.”
“I am calm.”
Richard’s voice was frighteningly controlled.
“My wife just threatened me with my daughter’s medical records thirty seconds before you arrived.”
Camille gasped.
“That is not what happened.”
Dana turned.
“What did happen?”
Camille hesitated.
Then lowered her eyes.
“I told him Sophie has been having accidents.”
Richard almost laughed.
“Accidents?”
“Falling down stairs. Bruising. Night terrors.”
Richard looked at Dana.
“She is three years old.”
Dana nodded.
“I understand.”
Camille continued.
“Richard travels constantly.”
There it was.
The story.
Richard watched her build it piece by piece.
“He loves Sophie,” Camille said. “Nobody could question that. But love doesn’t always mean someone is capable of seeing what a child needs.”
Richard took one step toward her.
Dana immediately lifted a hand.
“Mr. Hale.”
He stopped.
Camille flinched dramatically.
And Richard realized that was what she wanted.
She wanted witnesses.
She wanted him angry.
She wanted him unpredictable.
So he did the hardest thing he had done all night.
He smiled.
“Dana, would you like to speak with my daughter privately?”
Camille looked surprised.
Dana nodded.
“Yes.”
“And our housekeeper?”
“If she has relevant information.”
“She does.”
Camille’s face changed.
Only slightly.
But Richard saw it.
Dana followed Maria and Sophie toward the smaller sitting room near the back garden.
One investigator remained in the foyer.
Richard looked at Camille.
“You didn’t think Maria would talk.”
Camille leaned closer.
“She is an employee.”
“She is a witness.”
“Employees say whatever billionaires pay them to say.”
Richard frowned.
“So that’s the angle now?”
Camille did not answer.
Upstairs, something beeped.
A phone.
Camille’s eyes flickered toward the staircase.
Richard noticed.
“What’s upstairs?”
“Nothing.”
He turned.
Camille grabbed his sleeve.
“Richard.”
He looked at her hand.
She released him.
“You cannot go through my private things.”
“My daughter lives in this house.”
“So do I.”
“Not for much longer.”
He climbed the stairs.
Camille followed.
The beep came again.
From the guest bedroom she had converted into a private dressing room.
Richard opened the door.
A laptop sat on the vanity.
The screen was lit.
An incoming message.
He stepped closer.
Camille moved quickly.
“Don’t.”
Too late.
The message preview appeared.
UNKNOWN NUMBER:
Did they arrive? Stick to the plan. Do NOT let him access the red drive.
Richard stared.
Then turned.
“What red drive?”
Camille’s face drained.
Richard opened the nearest drawer.
Perfume.
Jewelry.
Receipts.
Second drawer.
Nothing.
Third.
Locked.
He pulled.
Camille shoved him.
“Stop!”
Richard looked at her.
That one reaction told him everything.
He pulled harder.
The thin lock snapped.
Inside was a velvet pouch.
Passport.
Cash.
A second phone.
And a red USB drive.
Camille reached for it.
Richard stepped back.
“Who are you talking to?”
“You have no right.”
“Who?”
Footsteps sounded behind them.
Dana stood in the doorway.
“What’s happening?”
Camille immediately started crying.
“He broke into my things.”
Richard held up the drive.
“She received a message telling her not to let me access this.”
Dana frowned.
“Mr. Hale, please put it down.”
Richard looked at the social worker.
Then at Camille.
He realized how easily this could be reversed on him.
He placed the drive on the dresser.
“Fine.”
Dana turned toward Camille.
“Mrs. Hale, do you have somewhere else you can stay tonight?”
Camille blinked.
“What?”
“Based on what I’ve heard so far, I believe temporary separation would be appropriate while we complete the initial assessment.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
Richard said nothing.
Dana continued.
“Maria has described several concerning incidents.”
Camille looked toward the hallway.
“She’s lying.”
“Sophie also made statements.”
The room went silent.
Richard’s heart twisted.
“What did she say?”
Dana looked at him carefully.
“She said Mrs. Hale gets angry when Daddy goes away.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“And?”
“She said she has to be quiet because ‘Mommy Camille gets the cold face.’”
Camille’s jaw tightened.
“She calls me Mommy.”
Dana continued.
“She said she was locked in the laundry room.”
Richard turned toward Camille.
“She also said Mrs. Hale told her that if she told you, Maria would disappear.”
Maria.
Of course.
That was how she controlled Sophie.
Not just fear for herself.
Fear for the person she loved.
Richard’s voice broke for the first time.
“You told my daughter Maria would disappear?”
Camille’s face hardened.
“She misunderstood.”
Dana shook her head.
“For tonight, Mrs. Hale, you need to stay elsewhere.”
“This is my home.”
“It is also the child’s home.”
Camille looked at Richard.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“No.”
His answer surprised even himself.
“No, Camille. I’m wondering how long my daughter was afraid while I was defending you.”
That landed.
For a moment, Camille looked almost wounded.
Then it vanished.
She walked toward the closet.
“I’ll pack.”
Richard remained downstairs with Sophie while Camille filled two suitcases.
Dana explained that Sophie could remain in the home for now, but CPS would follow up.
Richard agreed to everything.
Interviews.
Medical evaluation.
Home inspection.
Anything.
He no longer cared about embarrassment.
He cared about truth.
At 10:43 p.m., Camille rolled her suitcase through the foyer.
She paused beside Sophie.
Richard stepped between them.
Camille laughed softly.
“Still protecting her.”
Richard stared.
“Always.”
Something bitter passed across her face.
“You say that now.”
Then she walked outside.
The black car waiting near the gate surprised him.
Camille did not call a rideshare.
She did not call a friend.
The driver was already there.
Waiting.
Richard watched from the window.
The back door opened.
A man sat inside.
Richard could not see his face.
Camille got in.
The car disappeared beyond the gates.
Maria approached.
“Sir?”
Richard turned.
“You should rest.”
“I won’t sleep.”
His phone rang.
Private number.
He answered.
“Richard Hale?”
“Yes.”
“This is Dr. Alan Reeves from St. Matthew Medical Center.”
Richard frowned.
The hospital.
The same hospital where he had collapsed six months earlier.
“What is this about?”
There was a pause.
“I’m calling because I reviewed something today that I believe you need to know.”
Richard’s grip tightened.
“What?”
“Your wife requested copies of your toxicology records three months ago.”
Richard went cold.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Was there something unusual in them?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Richard looked at Sophie sleeping against Maria.
Dr. Reeves lowered his voice.
“When you collapsed at the gala, we initially believed it was a reaction to medication.”
Richard remembered.
“But?”
“But the levels we found were inconsistent with the dosage you had been prescribed.”
Richard stopped breathing.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying someone may have given you significantly more than you should have received.”
Richard stared toward the dark driveway.
Camille had spoken about incapacity documents.
Documents supposedly signed during his hospitalization.
And now this.
“Doctor…”
“Yes?”
“Do you still have the original blood sample?”
“We do.”
“Don’t destroy it.”
Richard’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Don’t release it to anyone.”
May you like
He looked toward the gate where Camille’s car had disappeared.
“I think my wife tried to poison me.”
