Chapter 8 - The Choice No Mother Should Face
“She thinks I sent her away?”
I heard myself ask the question, but I barely recognized my voice.
Grant looked almost satisfied.
“Children believe what adults tell them.”
I stared at him.
“She's seven.”
“Then she's old enough to understand that actions have consequences.”
Something inside me went still.
I'd spent eleven months trying to make this man happy.
I'd changed how I dressed.
I'd stopped meeting friends without telling him.
I'd explained away every cruel remark he made to Rosie.
And whenever Beth questioned him, I defended him.
I told myself he was under pressure.
That he'd had a difficult childhood.
That he didn't know how to show affection.
Now my daughter was locked somewhere upstairs, believing her mother had abandoned her.
And Grant was standing in front of me, calling it a consequence.
“You don't love us,” I whispered.
His expression tightened.
“I've done everything for you.”
“No. You've done everything to keep us where you want us.”
He looked away.
For the first time, I didn't care whether my words upset him.
Roman stepped beside the table.
“Grant, the police are involved. This ends tonight.”
Grant laughed.
“You think I'm afraid of a few detectives?”
“I think you should be.”
Grant's eyes moved toward the notebook.
“Then make your decision.”
He pointed toward me.
“Evelyn signs the agreement, you sign the statement, and I get the original notebook.”
“Then Rosie comes downstairs?” Roman asked.
“Yes.”
“With Beth?”
Grant hesitated.
“Beth can make her own arrangements.”
I noticed the hesitation.
He wasn't willing to promise my sister would be released.
“Both of them,” I said.
Grant looked at me.
“Don't start making demands.”
“Rosie and Beth. Both of them come back.”
He studied me.
Then his expression changed.
“You really think your sister is innocent?”
“I think she's been trying to protect my daughter.”
“She signed the agreement.”
“You made sure she had a reason.”
For a moment, Grant looked genuinely angry.
Then he spoke more quietly.
“Beth could have walked away years ago.”
Roman's eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
Grant glanced toward the notebook.
“She knew what was happening at Mercer Street. She knew what those men were doing. And she kept quiet.”
“Because she was afraid of your family?” I asked.
“Because she needed her job.”
He leaned forward.
“Your sister had bills. Your father had left debts. She was trying to keep a roof over your head.”
I thought about Beth coming home exhausted.
The nights she skipped dinner.
The way she'd refused to buy herself a winter coat.
Grant continued.
“My father gave her a choice. Keep working and stop asking questions, or lose everything.”
Roman stared at him.
“And your brother?” I whispered.
Grant looked at Roman.
“Nico wouldn't stop asking questions.”
The room fell silent.
I watched Roman's face.
He was struggling to remain calm.
“What happened the night of the fire?”
Grant rubbed his forehead.
“There was an electrical problem. Nobody planned for anyone to die.”
“But somebody chained the east exit,” Roman said.
Grant didn't answer.
Roman took a slow breath.
“That's why you want the notebook.”
Grant's jaw tightened.
“Your brother didn't understand how the company operated.”
“He understood people could get hurt.”
“Easy for him to say. He wasn't responsible for paying two hundred employees.”
Roman looked at him with open disgust.
“And my brother died because somebody thought a locked door mattered more than those employees.”
Grant slammed his palm against the table.
“You don't know the whole story!”
“Then tell me.”
Grant looked toward the door.
He had almost said too much.
I saw it in his face.
But before Roman could question him again, Detective Ellis returned.
She glanced at Anthony.
A small movement passed between them.
Then she looked at Grant.
“Mr. Whitmore, we've confirmed that Rosie is inside Room 4C. We need her brought out safely.”
Grant's expression changed.
“She's being cared for.”
“Then you should have no objection to her leaving with her mother.”
He looked toward Roman.
“The notebook first.”
The detective remained calm.
“I'm concerned about the child's welfare. We can discuss the other matters after she's safe.”
Grant shook his head.
“No deal.”
Roman picked up the notebook.
“Fine.”
I turned toward him.
“Roman—”
He looked at me.
“Rosie comes first.”
Then he looked at Grant.
“You'll get your notebook. I'll sign what you want.”
Grant stared at him.
“You'd throw away your brother's reputation for a child you met tonight?”
Roman's eyes filled.
“My brother died trying to save strangers.”
He placed one tattooed hand on the notebook.
“I think he'd understand.”
The words broke something in me.
For the first time that night, I saw Grant realize that he couldn't frighten Roman into caring about money more than people.
But he still had Rosie.
And he knew it.
“Bring her down,” Roman said.
Grant reluctantly instructed Vale to bring Rosie and Beth to the adjoining hospitality room beside the dining suite.
The detective coordinated the movement with officers who were already positioned nearby.
Roman's security team stepped aside.
I waited beside the doorway, hardly breathing.
Minutes passed.
Then footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Soft.
Uneven.
A child's footsteps.
I recognized them before I saw anyone.
My heart began pounding.
A small shadow appeared beneath the connecting door.
Then a familiar voice spoke from the other side.
“Mommy?”
I dropped to my knees.
“Rosie?”
A pause.
Then came the words that nearly destroyed me.
“Mommy, Mr. Grant said you don't want me anymore.”
May you like
I pressed both hands against the door.
“Baby, I'm right here. And I'm never going to stop wanting you.”
