Chapter 1 - The Easter Sunday Call
My daughter called me on Easter Sunday just as the sun was beginning to set.
Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with a terror I had not heard since she was a little girl.
"Dad, he hit me again."
That was all she managed to say before the line went dead.
I did not ask questions, nor did I bother locking my front door.
I grabbed my keys, got into my truck, and drove straight to her husband's sprawling country estate.
Richard was old money, the kind of man who bought his way out of every consequence.
When I arrived, the manicured lawns were filled with wealthy guests sipping champagne in the spring breeze.
I parked my truck right on the pristine grass, ignoring the valets.
Richard's mother intercepted me at the bottom of the porch steps, her face twisted in an ugly sneer.
"Go back to your lonely little house," she hissed, trying to shove me backward.
I did not say a word as I physically pushed past her, knocking her hand away.
I kicked the heavy oak front door open and stepped into the quiet interior of the mansion.
I found Lily lying on the hardwood floor of the living room, clutching her ribs.
Her beautiful face was bruised, and there were dark, angry marks forming around her neck.
Outside the window, the family continued celebrating as if nothing had happened.
Then I heard the clinking of ice against crystal.
Richard was standing by the mahogany bar, calmly pouring himself another drink.
"She fell," he said smoothly, not even looking in my direction.
But the blood on his white cuff told a completely different story.
I took a step toward him, my fists clenching at my sides.
Then I noticed the small, blinking red light partially hidden beneath the leather couch.
It was Lily's phone, and it was still recording video.
May you like
Richard noticed where I was looking and smiled a cold, arrogant smile.
"It doesn't matter what that recorded, old man," Richard whispered, pulling a silver pistol from his suit jacket.
