Chapter 4 - The Overseas Call
The hospital room was finally quiet, save for the rhythmic humming of the heart monitor and the soft breathing of my three newborns resting safely beside me.
The charge nurse, a kind woman named Brenda, finished bandaging my head and replacing my IV line. A physician had already re-stitched my torn abdominal incision under local anesthesia.
“You were very brave, Sarah,” Nurse Brenda whispered softly, pressing a cool compress to the swelling bruise on my cheek. “The police have secured the video footage. The precinct captain is outside waiting to take your formal statement whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Brenda,” I murmured.
Just then, my personal phone—which had been sitting on the bedside table—began to vibrate furiously. The screen displayed a video call from an international number.
Daniel.
My breath caught in my throat. I picked up the phone with shaking fingers and swiped the screen.
Daniel’s face filled the display. He was sitting in a brightly lit airport terminal in Frankfurt, looking exhausted, his tie loosened around his collar.
“Sarah!” Daniel gasped the moment the video connected. His eyes widened in immediate horror as he saw the heavy white bandage wrapped around my head and the dark blue bruising along my jaw. “My God, Sarah! What happened to your face?! Are you okay?! Are the babies—”
“The babies are safe, Daniel,” I interrupted softly, tears welling in my eyes. “All three of them. Two boys and a girl. They’re right here next to me.”
I turned the camera slightly to show the three bassinets. Daniel let out a shaky, choked breath, a fleeting smile touching his lips before his expression hardened back into pure dread as he looked at my injuries.
“What happened to you?” Daniel demanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous, low register. “I called your mother an hour ago to check on you after my sister told me you were in labor. Your mother was hysterical, saying something about police at the hospital. Sarah, tell me what happened!”
I took a deep breath and told him everything.
I told him about going into labor alone, calling my parents, and being brushed off. I told him about the emergency C-section, and how my family had walked into the recovery room hours later demanding I hand over one of our sons to Mason and Claire. And finally, I told him about Richard picking up Leo, punching me in the head when I fought back, and how I pressed the panic button to trigger the police lockdown.
As I spoke, I watched my husband’s face transform.
Daniel was normally a calm, even-tempered man. He was patient, slow to anger, and always sought logical solutions to problems. But as the details of my assault unfolded, his eyes turned into cold, burning ice. The blood drained from his face, leaving his jaw clenched so tight the muscles twitched.
He didn't yell. He didn't curse. The absolute, terrifying silence on his end of the line was far more frightening than any shout could have been.
“Daniel?” I whispered softly. “Are you there?”
“I canceled my meetings,” Daniel said, his voice eerily quiet, vibrating with an intense, deadly rage. “I am at the gate right now. My flight lands in Nashville in nine hours.”
“Daniel, the police have Dad in custody—”
“Good,” Daniel cut me off, staring directly into the camera lens with a look that chilled me to the bone. “Tell the police not to grant him bail before I get there. Because if your father steps out of that jail cell before I see him, the police will be arresting me next.”
He took a deep breath, forcing his tone to soften as he looked at me and the babies. “Hold our children tight, sweetheart. Mommy and the babies are going to be protected now. I’m coming home.”
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The screen went black as he disconnected the call.
I held the phone against my chest, feeling a strange mix of relief and lingering dread. Daniel was coming back. And I knew that when he arrived, the reign of terror my father had held over my life for thirty years was going to come to a violent, definitive end.
