PART 10:

How did I miss? Because predators are good at hiding. Because he waited until you left. Because he manipulated everyone. Natalie took the housekeeper’s hands. Anna, I need you now more than ever. The kids need normal. They need your cooking and your kindness and your terrible jokes that make Mason groan.

Can you do that? Anna nodded fiercely, wiping her eyes. See, of course. Anything for the babies? The therapist arrived at three. Dr. Sarah Chen, recommended by Michael Reeves as the best child trauma specialist in Los Angeles. 50some, kind eyes, zero nonsense. She spent 20 minutes with each child individually, then an hour with all three together.

Natalie watched through the one-way mirror in her home office. Another installation from the afternoon, making space for therapy sessions so the children wouldn’t have to leave their safe zone. They’re resilient, doctor, Chen said afterwards, sitting across from Natalie in the office.

But they’re also deeply wounded. Clare has developed perfectionist tendencies and anxiety. Mason shows signs of PTSD. Ava has attachment trauma. None of it is permanent, but healing will take time. Months, maybe years. Whatever it takes. Good, because they need you present. Not just physically, but emotionally. No checking email during dinner.

No working late while they’re still awake. Your presence is the medicine right now. I resigned this morning. Dr. Chen smiled. Then you’re ahead of where most parents start. They scheduled sessions twice weekly for each child individually, plus family therapy on Saturdays. Dr. Chen also recommended a therapist for Natalie.

You experienced trauma, too, witnessing what happened to them, and gave them homework, trust exercises, communication strategies, ways to help the children feel safe expressing their needs. That evening, they ordered pizza and ate in the living room, the same room where yesterday’s horror had unfolded. Natalie had considered avoiding it, but Dr.

Chen had advised against it. “You reclaim spaces by creating new memories in them,” she’d said. “Make that room about laughter and family time instead of fear.” So, they sprawled on the floor with pizza boxes and paper plates, watching an animated movie Mason had picked. Ethan joined them, sitting slightly apart until Ava dragged him closer.

“You’re part of family movie night now,” she declared. I am. Yes, because you’re our friend and friends watch movies together. Natalie caught Ethan’s expression. Stunned gratitude mixed with grief for the family he’d lost. He probably hadn’t watched a kid’s movie in years, probably avoided anything that reminded him of Emily, but he stayed.

And somewhere around the scene where the characters sang about found family, Natalie saw him wipe his eyes discreetly. Later, after the children had gone to bed separately tonight, making small brave attempts at normaly, Natalie and Ethan sat on the back patio. The pool glowed aqua in the darkness.

Somewhere in the hills, coyotes howled. I meant what I said about earning my keep. Ethan said, “I can fix things, build things. I’m good with my hands. I believe you. But Ethan, you also saved my children. That’s a debt I can never repay. I don’t want repayment. I want He stopped struggling with words. After Emily and Rebecca died, I stopped caring about anything. Went through motions.

Work, sleep, work, sleep. I was just existing, waiting to die, basically. What changed? Your kids. Seeing them suffer, it woke something up in me. Made me angry. Made me care again. He looked at her, his eyes reflecting pool light. I’m grateful for that. Sounds twisted maybe, but helping them helped me remember I’m still alive.

That there’s still good I can do in this world. You did more than good. You gave them their lives back. We both did. You believe me? You acted immediately. A lot of parents wouldn’t have. Natalie thought about that. How many mothers heard similar stories and chose disbelief? chose their partners over their children because acknowledging the truth meant their whole world collapsed. She’d been lucky.

Her instinct had overridden any loyalty to Daniel. But it easily could have gone differently. Tomorrow I want to take them somewhere, she said. Somewhere that feels safe and happy. Maybe the beach. The beach is good. Open space. Hard for anyone to approach unnoticed. You’re still thinking about security.

always until Daniels proved he’s not a threat. Even then, probably. They sat in comfortable silence, two broken people beginning to heal through unlikely friendship and shared purpose. Inside, a child cried out. Both Natalie and Ethan stood immediately, but then they heard Clare’s voice murmuring something soothing to Ava.

The crying stopped, a door closed softly. “They’re taking care of each other,” Ethan observed. They always have. I just didn’t realize how much they’d had to. Natalie’s phone buzzed. Daniel’s number. She almost didn’t answer, but Ethan gestured for her to pick up. He was already recording on his own device. Evidence if needed.

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