Chapter 2 - The Men at the Gate

Marcus released my wrist as though he'd touched a live wire.

"You called the cops on your husband?" he hissed.

"I called them because someone in this house is dangerous."

Eleanor's face lost its color. Arthur glanced at the front doors, then at Marcus, then at the coffee soaking his expensive shoes. He seemed to be weighing his options.

Marcus reached for my phone. I backed away, careful of the broken cup. "Don't," I said. "They're recording the gate camera."

That wasn't quite true. Detective Lena Torres was waiting two blocks away. If I missed our safety check-in, she would come.

Three hard knocks rattled the front door.

Marcus smoothed his black shirt, ran a hand through his hair, and put on the smile that had fooled reporters and donors for a decade. "Ivy's had a difficult morning," he told the officers as soon as they entered. "She's under a lot of stress."

Detective Torres didn't smile back. She had tired eyes and a calm voice. "Mrs. Vale, would you like to speak somewhere private?"

"Yes."

"I can explain everything," Marcus cut in.

"I'm not asking you," Torres said.

In the hall, beneath a portrait of Marcus's grandfather, I showed her my cheek. I showed her the old photographs on my phone: a bruised shoulder, a split lip, the marks of fingers around my upper arm. I told her about the glass he'd thrown the night before and the cup that morning.

She listened, then asked about weapons, threats, and somewhere safe to go.

I answered every question. My voice shook only once.

Marcus shouted from the dining room. "Dad, tell her what she signed!"

I heard Arthur respond, too quietly to make out.

Torres took another photograph and said, "We can document this and discuss an emergency protective order. The financial allegations will need separate investigators."

"I know," I said. "My lawyer has already contacted them."

When we returned, Marcus was staring at his phone. His bank's fraud unit had delayed the wire pending verification. It wasn't a final victory. For once, it stopped him.

"How did you do that?" he demanded.

I pulled my robe tighter. "You built your empire on an agreement you never bothered to read all the way through."

Arthur gripped the edge of the table.

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"Don't," he said to Marcus. "Don't ask her about Northstar."

But Marcus had already heard the name.