Chapter 2
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
Take our son?
The sentence sounded insane.
Then I remembered the locked pantry.
The bruises.
The videos.
The way Mom had intercepted my calls.
This was not anger.
It was a plan.
“Play the recording,” I said.
Anna hesitated.
“You’re going to hate hearing it.”
“I already hate what she did.”
She opened an audio file.
Mom’s voice filled the hospital room.
“She’s unstable, Carol. Pregnancy hormones. Crying constantly. She barely cleans. When the baby arrives, I’ll document everything.”
A woman answered.
“You need more than that for custody.”
“I know.”
Then Mom laughed.
“I’m working on it.”
The recording stopped.
I stared at the phone.
“Who is Carol?”
“I don’t know.”
Anna shook her head.
“But your mother talks to her almost every night.”
A nurse entered before I could respond.
“Mr. Reynolds?”
“Yes?”
“There are two detectives outside. They’d like to speak with your wife.”
I looked at Anna.
“You okay with that?”
She nodded.
The detectives entered.
One was a woman named Detective Ramirez. The other introduced himself as Detective Cole.
Ramirez pulled a chair close.
“Anna, I know you already spoke briefly with officers at the house. I need to ask some difficult questions.”
Anna squeezed my hand.
“Okay.”
“When did the abuse begin?”
“The verbal stuff started almost immediately after Mark left.”
“And physical?”
“About four weeks ago.”
I looked at her.
Four weeks.
She had spent a month hiding this from me.
Ramirez noticed my reaction.
“Mr. Reynolds, let her answer without interruption.”
I nodded.
Anna continued.
“The first time she shoved me. Then she grabbed my arm. Then she slapped me.”
“Any threats?”
“Yes.”
“Against you?”
Anna hesitated.
“Against my baby.”
My chest tightened.
Ramirez became very still.
“What exactly did she say?”
Anna looked at me.
“She said accidents happen during pregnancy.”
I stood so quickly the chair nearly fell.
“Mark.”
“I’m okay.”
I wasn’t.
Detective Cole stepped toward me.
“Sir, I understand you're angry.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand enough to tell you that keeping control right now protects your wife.”
That reached me.
I sat again.
Ramirez asked, “Do you have evidence?”
Anna handed her the phone.
“There are videos, audio recordings, and photographs.”
Ramirez’s eyebrows rose.
“You recorded her?”
“Sometimes. After I realized nobody would believe me.”
I felt those words like a knife.
Nobody would believe me.
Including my husband.
She didn’t say it.
She didn’t have to.
Ramirez took the phone.
“We’ll preserve everything.”
“What happens to my mother?” I asked.
“She’s being processed.”
“Is she getting out tonight?”
“Possibly, depending on the charge and bail determination.”
“No.”
Ramirez looked at me.
“I don’t want her near Anna.”
“We can request an emergency protective order.”
“Do it.”
Anna tightened her grip on my hand.
An hour later, her contractions slowed.
The doctor told us the baby appeared stable.
Relief hit me so hard I almost cried.
Then my phone started ringing.
My older sister, Claire.
I ignored it.
She called again.
Then my uncle.
Then my cousin.
Then Claire again.
Finally, I answered.
“What?”
Claire didn’t even say hello.
“Did you have Mom arrested?”
“Yes.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
I walked into the hallway.
“She assaulted Anna.”
“Mom said Anna attacked her.”
“Mom lied.”
“You hit her.”
“I stopped her from hitting my pregnant wife again.”
Claire went silent.
Then her voice turned cold.
“You've always let Anna change you.”
I laughed once.
“Is that what Mom told you?”
“She said Anna has been treating her like a servant.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“Anna was on her knees cleaning while Mom watched TV.”
“Because she spilled something.”
“She is seven months pregnant.”
“Women clean while pregnant, Mark.”
I ended the call.
Thirty seconds later, a text arrived.
YOU’RE GOING TO REGRET TURNING THE FAMILY AGAINST YOU.
I stared at it.
Then another message appeared.
It was from an unknown number.
You need to check your bank account.
I frowned.
Another text.
Your mother has been moving money.
I called the number.
No answer.
I opened our banking app.
My main checking account looked normal.
Savings looked normal.
Then I remembered an old joint emergency account my mother had access to years ago.
I hadn’t checked it in months.
I logged in.
Balance: $412.
It should have had almost $28,000.
I stopped breathing.
Transaction after transaction filled the screen.
Transfers.
Cash withdrawals.
Online payments.
Twenty-seven thousand dollars gone.
The latest transfer had happened three days earlier.
Recipient:
C. Whitmore Legal Services.
Carol.
I went back into Anna’s room.
She saw my face.
“What happened?”
“My mother took our emergency savings.”
“What?”
“Almost all of it.”
I showed her.
Anna covered her mouth.
“Mark, I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
Then Detective Ramirez returned.
I handed her my phone.
“My mother has been transferring money from an account she still had access to.”
Ramirez scanned the screen.
“To a law office.”
“Yes.”
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She looked at Anna.
“Do you know anyone named Carol Whitmore?”
Anna shook her head.
Ramirez typed something into her phone.
A moment later, she looked back at us.
“Carol Whitmore isn't just a lawyer.”
“What does that mean?”
“She specializes in family custody cases.”
My stomach turned.
Ramirez continued.
“And based on what I'm seeing, your mother started paying her five weeks ago.”
Five weeks.
Before the first shove.
Before the slap.
Before the locked pantry.
Mom hadn’t decided to take our son because she hated Anna.
She had been preparing to take him before the abuse even started.
Anna suddenly whispered, “Mark.”
“What?”
“She wasn’t trying to punish me.”
Her eyes filled with terror.
“She was trying to make me look unstable.”
I understood immediately.
Starve her.
Exhaust her.
Provoke her.
Record her crying.
Create evidence.
My mother had been building a case.
Then Anna said something worse.
“There’s a camera in the nursery.”
I frowned.
May you like
“We don’t have a camera in the nursery yet.”
“I know.”
