Chapter 4 - My Mother Came for My Daughter
“You have what?”
Celeste held up the papers.
“An emergency protective order.”
Isabella grabbed my hand.
“No.”
Celeste’s voice softened instantly.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call her that,” I said.
One deputy stepped forward.
“Mr. Mercer, let’s keep this calm.”
“My daughter has bruises. She has blisters. We found a microphone inside her toy. And you’re here to take her away from me?”
The child-welfare officer looked surprised.
Celeste didn’t.
That told me enough.
She opened the folder.
“The petition states you have been absent for prolonged periods, that Isabella has shown signs of neglect, and that your household has become unstable since Elena’s death.”
“Who filed it?”
My mother looked at Beatriz.
Beatriz’s face collapsed.
I understood.
“You.”
Beatriz whispered, “Gabriel—”
“You told the court I was neglecting my daughter?”
Celeste interrupted.
“Beatriz told the truth.”
Isabella stepped behind me.
“She lies.”
My mother’s expression tightened.
The child-welfare officer crouched several feet away.
My mother’s eyes never went to the injuries. They stayed on the paperwork.
That was the moment I stopped seeing a grandmother worried about a child and started seeing a woman protecting a strategy.
“Isabella stays with me,” I said.
Celeste smiled coldly. “You think fatherhood is a speech you give after missing half the year?”
The words hit because they contained enough truth to hurt.
I had been absent. I had missed signs.
But guilt was not the same as surrender.
“I failed to see what was happening,” I said. “That ends today.”
“Isabella, can I ask you a question?”
My daughter nodded.
“Did your father hurt you?”
“No.”
“Did Beatriz?”
Isabella looked toward Beatriz.
Her mouth closed.
I felt the fear return to her body.
I held up the microphone.
“This is why she won’t speak.”
The officer stared at it.
Celeste said, “Anyone could have planted that.”
I turned on her.
“Elena told me not to trust you.”
For the first time, my mother lost control of her face.
Only for a second.
Then she smiled.
“Elena was ill.”
“She was not.”
“She was paranoid.”
“About Beatriz?”
Silence.
“About you?”
Celeste looked at the deputies.
“This is exactly the instability I warned the court about.”
Mason hurried from the security room.
“Mr. Mercer.”
“What?”
“We have a problem.”
He handed me his tablet.
Every camera covering the garden, upstairs hallway, and Isabella’s bedroom entrance had been erased.
Not corrupted.
Erased.
The last six months were gone.
Celeste’s smile returned.
“No evidence,” she said quietly.
Then Isabella tugged my sleeve.
“Daddy.”
“What?”
“Mommy had another camera.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Where?”
“In the garage.”
My mother’s face went white.
---
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