After His Daughter Targeted Me, I Wanted a Divorce

The discharge nurse handed me a folder thick with instructions. Bed rest. No stairs. No stress. Follow-up in three days.

'Any questions?' she asked.

I shook my head. Roman stood beside me, one hand hovering near my elbow like I might shatter.

'Let's get you home,' he said.

Home. The word tasted wrong.

The penthouse looked the same. Afternoon light slanted through the windows. Maria had cleaned. Everything gleamed.

Shiloh sat on the couch, her rabbit in her lap. She looked up when we walked in.

'Aurora!' She scrambled off the cushions. 'Are you okay? Is the baby okay?'

I smiled. 'We're fine, sweetheart. Thank you for asking.'

Roman's shoulders dropped. Relief.

I let him help me to the bedroom. Let him fluff the pillows and bring me water. When he left to make phone calls, I opened the nightstand drawer.

The small black notebook was still there. I pulled it out and a pen.

This time, I didn't cross anything out.

*October 18 — Kicked in stomach during storm. Threatened miscarriage. Roman left me bleeding to comfort her.*

My handwriting was steady. Neat.

I closed the notebook and tucked it under my pillow.

That night at dinner, I sat across from Shiloh. She watched me over her plate of pasta.

'How are you feeling?' she asked.

Her voice was soft. Concerned. But her eyes were flat.

'Much better,' I said. 'Thank you.'

Roman beamed. 'See? We're going to be fine. All of us.'

I smiled and took another bite.

After dinner, I retreated to the bedroom without argument. Roman kissed my forehead. 'Get some rest. I'll check on you later.'

I waited until his footsteps faded. Then I pulled out my phone and opened the encrypted message I'd received that afternoon.

*Chen Investigations. Midtown office. Tomorrow, 2pm. Come alone.*

I deleted the message and closed my eyes.

The next day, I told Roman I had a follow-up appointment. He offered to come. I said no, the doctor wanted to see me alone. He didn't argue.

The office was on the thirty-second floor of a glass tower. No name on the door. Just a number.

Detective Sarah Chen was younger than I expected. Sharp suit. Sharper eyes.

'Mrs. Evans.' She gestured to a chair. 'Thank you for coming.'

I sat and pulled the notebook from my purse. Set it on her desk. Then a folder with Roman's timeline, Adaline's name, the DNA document.

'Everything's in here,' I said.

Sarah opened the folder. Scanned the DNA document. Her mouth tightened.

'This is a forgery,' she said. 'A good one. But a forgery.'

My chest tightened. 'You're sure?'

'The lab listed doesn't exist. The certification number is fake. Whoever made this knew what they were doing.' She looked up. 'Your husband lied to you.'

I nodded slowly. I'd known. But hearing it said out loud made it real.

'I need proof,' I said. 'Real proof. A legitimate DNA test. Everything about Adaline Reyes. Everything about that child.'

Sarah leaned back. 'That'll take time. And money.'

'I have both.'

'Good.' She pulled out a contract. 'Then let's get started.'

I signed without reading it. Wrote a check. Stood to leave.

'Mrs. Evans,' Sarah said. 'Be careful. If he lied about this, he'll lie about other things. Don't let him know you're digging.'

'I won't.'

I went home. Smiled at Roman. Ate dinner across from Shiloh.

And I waited.

Two days later, Roman took Shiloh to her therapy appointment. Some new child psychologist in Brooklyn. They'd be gone for hours.

Maria arrived ten minutes after they left.

'You're sure about this?' she asked.

I nodded. 'I need to see what happens when I'm not watching.'

We worked quickly. A decorative clock in the living room. A picture frame on the bookshelf. A smoke detector repositioned above the staircase.

High-definition. Motion-activated. Streaming to a secure cloud account only I could access.

Maria tested each one. 'They're invisible,' she said. 'No one will know.'

'Good.'

That night, after everyone was asleep, I locked myself in the master bathroom. Opened my laptop. Logged into the camera feed.

The footage was crystal clear.

I scrolled back to the evening. Watched Shiloh eat dinner. Watched her go to her room. Watched Roman settle on the couch with his laptop.

Then, at 11:47pm, Shiloh's door opened.

She walked into the kitchen. Stood in the center of the room. Completely still.

She wasn't looking at anything. She was just standing there. Facing the hallway that led to our bedroom.

I checked the timestamp. One minute. Two. Five.

She didn't move. Didn't blink.

Eleven minutes.

Then she turned and walked back to her room.

I closed the laptop. My hands were shaking.

Not from fear.

From certainty.

I had her now. I just needed to wait for her to make her next move.

And I knew she would.