Chapter 8 - The Secret That Wasn't a Weapon

For one ugly second, I understood exactly what Mom wanted.

Doubt.

Not proof. Not truth. Just a crack wide enough for her to climb back inside my head.

I showed Savannah the photo.

Her face changed.

"I was going to tell you before we got married," she said.

I waited.

"Then your dad died, and everything became about helping you through that. Afterward, it felt too late to make it a big conversation."

"Tell me now."

She took a breath.

Three years before we met, Savannah had spent eight months in counseling after leaving an abusive relationship.

That was it.

No secret hospitalization. No hidden diagnosis. No mysterious threat.

She had gone to therapy because someone hurt her and she wanted help putting her life back together.

I felt rage rise so fast I had to stand up.

"She followed you?"

"Or paid someone. I don't know."

"Why would she even have that picture?"

Savannah's eyes turned hard. "Because she started investigating me before our wedding."

The detective returned my call while Dana was still with us. I gave him the new evidence and arranged to meet.

That afternoon, Mom sent one more message.

I WILL ALWAYS PROTECT YOU, EVEN FROM YOURSELF.

I stared at it for a long time.

Then I typed one response, exactly as Dana advised.

Do not come to our home, Savannah's workplace, or the hospital. Communicate through counsel.

Mom replied within seconds.

SHE WROTE THAT FOR YOU, DIDN'T SHE?

I didn't answer.

At the police station, the detective listened to the recordings and examined the forged signature. He warned us that financial document cases could take time, but the physical incident and unauthorized recordings were separate issues.

"Who else saw her in the house?" he asked.

Savannah hesitated.

"Our neighbor, Mrs. Alvarez."

I looked at her. "Maria?"

"She asked me once if everything was okay. I told her yes."

We drove straight to Maria's house.

She opened the door, saw Savannah's bruised wrist, and her face collapsed.

"Oh, honey," she said. "I knew I should have said something."

"Said what?" I asked.

Maria looked at me.

"Your mother wasn't always alone when she came over."

My skin prickled.

"Who was with her?"

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Maria swallowed.

"A man in a gray suit. He took pictures through your windows."