PART 3:

You think about what disappointments you are until I decide you’ve learned your lesson. Let go. Mason tried to pull away, and Daniel’s other hand shot out, gripping the back of the boy’s neck. That was it. That was the moment Natalie Carver, Forbes featured CEO, woman who’d built a fortune through ruthless negotiation and steely composure, completely shattered.

She turned from the window and headed straight for the front door. Ethan called her name, but she was beyond hearing. Her hand found the door handle, yanked it open. The alarm system beeped. She’d forgotten to disarm it, but she didn’t care. Let it whail. Let the whole neighborhood hear. She crossed the foyer in six strides, her heels clicking like gunshots on marble.

The living room door was partially closed. She could hear Daniel still talking, his voice dripping poison. Your mother hired me, basically married me to play daddy so she wouldn’t have to. Do you understand that? You’re products of a transaction. She bought herself a father figure for her broken little family, and I was stupid enough to sign up.

Natalie hit the door with her palm. It slammed open, cracking against the interior wall with enough force to chip paint. Four faces turned toward her. Three children, expressions cycling rapidly from fear to confusion to desperate, fragile hope, and one man, her husband, frozen with his hand still on Mason’s neck, whiskey glass arrested halfway to his lips.

For a moment, nobody moved. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked. The air conditioning hummed. A car alarm went off somewhere down the street, distant and irrelevant. Then Ava screamed, “Mommy!” And the spell broke. “Natalie!” Daniel released Mason and stood up smoothly, his expression rearranging itself into something approximating surprise.

“You’re home early. I didn’t hear you come in.” “Kids,” Natalie said, her voice eerily calm despite the hurricane raging in her chest. “Stand up.” Clare scrambled to her feet immediately, pulling Ava with her. Mason stood more slowly, rubbing his neck where red marks were already blooming. They all stared at their mother like she was a ghost, like they couldn’t quite believe she was real.

Go to the kitchen, Natalie continued. All three of you now. Natalie, wait, Daniel started, setting his glass down on the coffee table. This isn’t what it looks like. The kids were misbehaving and I was just I said now. Natalie’s voice rose to a roar that made even Daniel step back. Go. The children ran. Clare grabbed Ava’s hand and practically dragged her from the room.

Mason close behind. Natalie heard their footsteps pounding down the hallway. Heard the kitchen door slam. Only when they were gone did she turn her full attention to the man she’d married. Daniel had recovered his composure. He straightened his shoulders, ran a hand through his hair, and gave her that charming smile that had won her over 8 years ago.

“Honey, I know this looks bad, but you have to understand they were being impossible today.” Clare talked back. Mason refused to do his homework, and Ava, shut up. Daniel blinked. “Excuse me?” I said, “Shut up.” Natalie took a step into the room. Her hands were fists at her sides, nails digging crescents into her palms. Don’t say another word. Not one more word.

Natalie, you’re being dramatic. I’m their father figure and sometimes disciplined. The door behind her opened. Ethan Cole walked in, still wearing his maintenance uniform. His old iPhone held up like a weapon. Daniel’s face went pale, then flushed angry red. What the hell is he doing in here? Natalie, why is the maintenance man in our private? Because I asked him to be, Natalie said softly, dangerously. Ethan, show him.

Ethan tapped his phone screen. Daniel’s voice filled the room. Recorded and damning. Your mother hired me. Basically, married me to play daddy so she wouldn’t have to. Daniel lunged for the phone, but Ethan stepped back smoothly, still playing the recording. Your real father was a loser who abandoned you, left you behind like garbage. Turn that off.

Daniel’s composure was cracking, his handsome face contorting. You have no right to record me in my own home. That’s illegal. That’s California is a two-party consent state for private conversations, Natalie cut in. But there are exceptions for documenting child abuse. She pulled her own phone from her blazer pocket.

And before you try to destroy Ethan’s evidence, you should know I’ve just texted myself copies of everything. Every recording, every video. There are cameras. Daniel, he installed cameras. The color drained from Daniel’s face completely. He looked from Natalie to Ethan and back again, his mouth opening and closing silently. How long? Natalie asked.

How long have you been terrorizing my children? I wasn’t. It was discipline. You don’t understand how difficult they How long? I don’t know. A few months, maybe a year. Daniel’s voice climbed higher, panicked now. Natalie, you’re always gone. Someone had to maintain order. Someone had to teach them respect. And respect? Natalie’s laugh was hollow.

You made them kneel on the floor like prisoners. You told them I don’t love them. You grabbed my son by the neck. I barely touched him. He’s fine. Kids need firm hands sometimes. My father used to I don’t give a damn what your father did. Natalie advanced on him and despite being 6 in taller and 70 lb heavier, Daniel backed away.

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