Chapter 3 - The Depths of DenialBy noon on Monday, the Miller family was drowning, and they still didn't understand who was pouring the water.
In a windowless holding room at the county jail, Vanessa sat in an orange jumpsuit, her hair unwashed, her makeup smeared down her face. Across the steel table sat Mark and Robert, both looking disheveled and exhausted.
"You have to get me out of here!" Vanessa wailed, banging her manicured nails against the stainless steel table. "It smells like bleach and urine in here! The women in my cell block are criminals! Mark, why hasn't bail been posted?!"
Mark put his head in his hands. "Vanessa... the judge set bail at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Cash only. They classified you as a violent flight risk because of the severity of Lily's injuries."
"Two hundred and fifty thousand?!" Vanessa gasped. "Robert, just transfer it from the company account!"
Robert looked ten years older than he had forty-eight hours ago. His tie was loose, his eyes bloodshot. "There is no company account, Vanessa. The bank froze every corporate asset we own at nine this morning. The sheriff's department just served an eviction notice on our equipment yard. We don't even have enough cash to pay our payroll tomorrow."
Vanessa stared at them, her eyes wide with disbelief. "How is that possible?! It was just a cup of coffee! She’s fine! It was just a little burn! Clara is doing this to get back at me because she’s jealous!"
"Shut up, Vanessa!" Mark suddenly snapped, slamming his fist on the table. It was the first time in ten years he had ever raised his voice to his wife. "Just shut your mouth! The police have the security video from Dad's patio! Ethan’s ring camera caught the whole thing through the side archway! You didn't spill it! You looked right at the kid and threw it!"
Vanessa flinched, pulling back. "I... I was angry! She was touching Caleb's truck with her sticky hands! You never take my side!"
"She's two years old, Vanessa!" Mark screamed, tears of panic finally breaking through his posture. "She's two years old! And now the district attorney is charging you with second-degree assault on a minor! You're looking at five to seven years in state prison!"
While Vanessa began to sob hysterically, Robert’s phone vibrated on the metal table. He grabbed it frantically, seeing Ethan’s name on the caller ID.
"Ethan!" Robert shouted into the phone. "Ethan, thank god! Where have you been?! Your brother and I are at the jail. You need to fix this! Talk to Clara! Tell her to drop these ridiculous charges right now!"
On the other end of the line, Ethan was standing in the hospital lobby, holding a stuffed bear he had bought for Lily. His face was pale, his eyes hollowed out by two days of non-stop realization.
"She isn't dropping the charges, Dad," Ethan said quietly.
"What do you mean she isn't dropping them?!" Robert roared, standing up from his chair. "She is your wife! You tell her to call off her father’s lawyers! Do you know what Arthur Vance is doing to us?! He’s destroying my company! He bought our debt! He’s foreclosing on our house! He’s ruining your family!"
Ethan let out a long, shuddering breath. "Dad... Arthur Vance isn't doing this to ruin your family. You ruined your family the second you pointed at the gate and told my injured daughter to get out of your house."
"She was making a scene!" Robert defended himself automatically. "We were trying to protect the family from a public scandal!"
"She was burning, Dad!" Ethan yelled, his voice echoing off the glass walls of the hospital lobby, drawing stares from visitors and nurses. "Her skin was peeling off her face! And you cared about your patio! You cared about your reputation!"
"Ethan, listen to me—"
"No, Dad, you listen to me," Ethan interrupted, his voice dropping into a deadly, solemn quiet. "I just saw the police surveillance video. I saw what Vanessa did. And I saw you stand there with your grill tongs in your hand, watching my daughter scream, and turning your back."
"Ethan, I'm your father!"
"I served you with divorce papers this morning, Dad," Ethan said softly.
Robert went completely still. "What?"
"Not you... Clara served me with separation papers," Ethan corrected himself, his voice breaking. "And I don't blame her. I let you people treat her like second-class trash for three years because I was too weak to stand up to you. I let you make her feel small. And because I was weak, my daughter paid the price in blood."
"Ethan, please," Mark took the phone from his father’s shaking hand, his voice desperate. "Ethan, it's Mark. Help us. Vanessa is going to prison. Caleb needs his mother."
"Caleb needs a mother who isn't a monster," Ethan said coldly. "I'm calling the bank's receivership board today, Mark. I'm handing over every financial document I have from the family trust to help them liquidate your assets faster. Don't call me again."
May you like
The line went dead.
Mark stood in the sterile interrogation room, holding the silent phone against his ear, while behind him, his wife continued to wail into her orange-clad arms.
