"Richard, please," Evelyn stammered, taking a step back. For the first time, a sliver of genuine fear cracked her perfectly manicured facade. "You have to believe me. She's disabled. She gets confused. And this—this nurse is trying to turn you against me. I've been doing everything for this family. Everything!"
"She wanted Maya to call her Mom," Sarah said, pushing herself up from the floor. Her elbow throbbed with a sharp, sickening pain where it had struck the tile, but she ignored it. "She held the water over her head and told her they would stay there all night until Maya called her Mom."
"Shut up!" Evelyn shrieked, the mask finally slipping. Her face twisted into an ugly, furious sneer. "You are fired! Pack your things and get out of my house!"
"She's not going anywhere," Richard said softly.
He stood up, lifting Maya effortlessly into his arms. The little girl clung to him like a lifeline, the oversized suit jacket swallowing her small frame. Richard stared at Evelyn, his jaw set so tightly the muscles ticked beneath his skin.
"You are going to step out of this bathroom, Evelyn," Richard said, his tone dead and hollow. "You are going to go downstairs. You are not going to speak to me. You are not going to look at my daughter. If you try to leave this house, I will have the security gates locked. Do you understand me?"
Evelyn’s mouth opened and closed. She looked from Richard to the terrified child in his arms, and finally to Sarah, who was standing tall despite her soaked scrubs. Evelyn straightened her gold robe, lifting her chin with a desperate, haughty pride.
"You're making a mistake, Richard," she whispered venomously. "You're taking the word of the help over your own wife."
She turned on her heel and marched out of the bathroom, her bare feet slapping wetly against the hardwood of the hallway until the sound faded away.
Richard stood in the sudden quiet of the bathroom, the only sound the ragged, exhausted breathing of his daughter. He looked at Sarah. His eyes were wide, lost, and filled with a terrifying realization.
"Has she..." Richard swallowed hard, struggling to force the words out. "Has she done this before?"
Sarah looked at the broken, wealthy man holding his traumatized child. She thought of the strange bruises she had documented over the past three weeks. She thought of the way Maya flinched whenever a door opened. She thought of the locked drawer in Evelyn’s study.
"Yes, Mr. Sterling," Sarah said quietly. "She has. And I can prove it. But we need to get Maya warm first."
Richard closed his eyes, a single tear cutting a track down his pale face. He nodded once, holding his daughter tighter.
"Show me," he said.
Chapter 2: The Hidden Bruises
The heat in Maya’s bedroom was turned up as high as it would go. The massive fireplace cast a flickering, warm orange glow across the plush carpets. Richard sat on the edge of the large canopy bed, holding a mug of warm milk while Maya, bundled in three thick duvets, finally stopped shivering. Her eyes were heavy, exhausted from the sheer terror of the hour before, and she slowly drifted into a restless sleep against her father’s side.