Chapter 7
David’s hand froze on her cheek. The faux-affection vanished instantly, replaced by the hard, flat glare of a predator whose trap had been spotted. He dropped his hand to his side, his posture stiffening.
"What did you say?" David asked, his voice dangerously quiet.
"You heard me," Elena said, refusing to back down an inch. She stepped past him toward the hallway. "I know about the trust fund, David. I know why you hired Sarah, and I know you told her to drop our daughter."
David didn't deny it. He didn't even look surprised. Instead, a slow, dark smile spread across his face—a look of arrogant certainty that chilled Elena to her bone. He turned around to face her as she reached the threshold of the bedroom.
"You're smarter than I gave you credit for, El," David said smoothly, leaning against the edge of the dresser. "Always the sharp corporate lawyer, digging through files that don't concern you."
"That money belongs to my family trust, David. It was meant for Lily's future, not your failing tech investments," Elena shot back, her fury finally breaking through her restraint. "You used our baby as leverage. You sick bastard."
"I used what was necessary," David corrected, his tone chillingly pragmatic. "My company is on the verge of bankruptcy. If I don't liquidate that trust within the week, we lose everything—this house, our savings, our entire life. And once the dust settles, who cares how we got the funds? We’ll be secure."
"And if Lily had been seriously hurt?" Elena demanded, her voice echoing down the empty hallway. "If she had a fractured skull?"
"She didn't," David dismissed with a wave of his hand, as if discussing a minor accounting error. "Children are resilient. Now give me the evidence you found."
"What evidence?" Elena asked, playing for time.
"Don't play games with me, Elena. The micro-SD card from the nursery monitor," David said, stepping toward her with deliberate, menacing strides. "I noticed the access log on the cloud server this morning. I know you took it out."
May you like
Elena backed away toward the stairs, her hand sliding into her pocket to grip the tiny piece of plastic. "You'll never get it. I’ve already uploaded a copy to my law firm's secure server."
It was a bluff, but it worked. David stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the risk. Before he could lunge forward, the shrill ring of the home telephone pierced the silence downstairs.
