Chapter 2: The Secret I Buried
I didn’t sleep.
Not for one minute.
I sat beside Chloe’s hospital bed until sunrise, watching the rise and fall of her chest.
Every beep from the machines reminded me that my daughter was still fighting.
And every second reminded me that two people had tried to take her life.
At eight in the morning, Detective Harris entered the room.
He was younger than I expected.
Late thirties.
Tired eyes.
A notebook in his hand.
“Mrs. Reed?””
I stood.
“Yes.””
“I’m investigating your daughter’s assault.””
I looked at him carefully.
“And?””
He opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
I knew that look.
The look of someone who had already decided the case was complicated.
“Detective,” I said quietly, “say what you need to say.””
He sighed.
“The Harrington family has already hired attorneys.””
Of course they had.
“They’re claiming your daughter fell.””
I stared at him.
“Fell?””
“Yes.””
I almost laughed.
“My pregnant daughter fell, broke bones, suffered a head injury, and somehow ended up at a bus stop wearing pajamas?””
His face tightened.
“I know.””
“No.””
I stepped closer.
“You know something doesn’t make sense. That’s different.””
He looked uncomfortable.
“There’s pressure from the district attorney’s office.””
“Pressure from who?””
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
The Harrington name was the answer.
A nurse entered quietly.
“Mrs. Reed?””
I turned.
“Yes?””
“There was someone here asking about Chloe.””
My stomach tightened.
“Who?””
The nurse looked at her notes.
“Garrett Harrington.””
The room became silent.
“He came here?””
“Yes.””
My hands curled into fists.
“What did he say?””
The nurse looked nervous.
“He wanted to know if she was awake.””
Of course.
Not if she was okay.
Not if the baby survived.
If she was awake.
Because a witness waking up was dangerous.
I walked into the hallway.
And there he was.
Garrett Harrington.
Perfect hair.
Expensive coat.
A face that looked innocent enough for magazine covers.
The same face Chloe once loved.
The same face that had destroyed her.
When he saw me, he smiled sadly.
“Mrs. Reed.””
I stared at him.
“You have some nerve coming here.””
His expression changed.
“I’m worried about my wife.””
“Your wife?””
I stepped closer.
“My daughter is lying in there fighting for her life because of you.””
His jaw tightened.
“That’s a serious accusation.””
“So is attempted murder.””
He glanced around.
People were watching.
So he lowered his voice.
“You should be careful what you say.””
A warning.
Not concern.
A warning.
I smiled.
“You know what’s funny, Garrett?””
“What?””
“You married my daughter because you thought she was weak.””
His eyes narrowed.
“You don’t know anything about our marriage.””
“No.””
I leaned closer.
“But I know my daughter.””
For the first time, his confidence slipped.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Then he whispered:
“You should ask yourself why Chloe never told you the truth.””
That sentence stayed with me.
Because it was cruel.
Because it was calculated.
Because part of me feared he was right.
Later that afternoon, Detective Harris called me.
“We recovered the security footage.””
I stood immediately.
“And?””
“We need you to come down.””
When I arrived at the station, he led me into a small room.
A screen was waiting.
He pressed play.
The video showed the Harrington mansion.
The dining room.
Chloe standing near the silver cabinet.
Then Evelyn entered.
The audio was faint.
But clear enough.
“You embarrass this family.””
Chloe looked frightened.
“I’m sorry. I’ll fix it.””
“You always say that.””
Then Garrett appeared.
And I felt sick.
Because I saw what happened next.
Not an accident.
Not a fall.
Not a misunderstanding.
A choice.
They hurt my daughter.
They kept hurting her.
And when she collapsed…
Garrett looked at his mother.
Then said:
“We can’t have this ruining everything.””
The detective paused the video.
I couldn’t breathe.
“They dumped her there,” he said quietly.
I nodded.
Then I saw something.
Something the detective had missed.
“Go back.””
He looked confused.
“What?””
“Play it again.””
He did.
I watched Garrett walk toward the camera.
For one second, his face turned directly toward it.
And in his hand…
Was something small.
A black device.
“What is that?”” I asked.
Detective Harris leaned closer.
“I don’t know.””
I pointed.
“Zoom in.””
The image became blurry.
But visible.
A recording device.
A hidden microphone.
My blood ran cold.
“Why would he have that?””
The detective looked at me.
“I was hoping you could tell me.””
I stared at the screen.
Because suddenly I understood.
Garrett wasn’t just hiding what he did to Chloe.
He was hiding something else.
Something bigger.
Something connected to me.
My phone buzzed.
A message appeared.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
One sentence.
My hands went numb.
*“If you want your daughter alive, stop digging into the Harrington family.””*
Then another message appeared.
A photo.
A photo taken inside the ICU.
A photo of Chloe sleeping.
Taken just minutes earlier.
May you like
Someone was inside the hospital.
Someone was watching us.
