Chapter 2 - The Mask Slips
I stood up, smoothing the front of my dress shirt, though my hands were shaking so violently I could barely button the cuffs. I told Chloe to stay put, locked her bedroom door from the inside, and walked down the stairs with a calm facade that masked the volcanic fury raging underneath.
In the entryway, Meredith was adjusting her emerald silk wrap in the hall mirror. She looked immaculate, her blonde hair styled in a sleek chignon, smelling of expensive perfume.
By the coat rack stood Jessica and Marcus. Jessica was wearing a designer blazer, tapping her acrylic nails impatiently against her handbag, while Marcus checked his gold Rolex.
"Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence," Marcus laughed, flashing a brilliant, white-toothed smile. "Harrison, man, move it! The recital hall doesn't wait for slow architects. Where’s Chloe? Is she hiding behind her sheet music again?"
Jessica chuckled, a sharp, brittle sound. "Honestly, Meredith, you spoil that girl. If she misses her cue today, all my coaching sessions on Wednesday afternoons will have been a complete waste of time."
That word—coaching—hit me like a physical blow.
Meredith turned around, frowning slightly at my expression. "Harrison? You look pale. Did something happen with your tie?"
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs. I didn't yell. I didn't lunge at Marcus, though every muscle in my body screamed to wrap my hands around his smug throat. I just looked at them—my wife, her sister, and her brother-in-law—and realized I had never truly known any of them.
"She's not going to the recital," I said quietly.
The living room went dead silent.
Marcus’s smile faltered, replaced by a momentary flash of calculating coldness in his eyes before he plastered the grin back on. "Come on, bro. Don't be dramatic. It's her big day. What, did she smudge her dress?"
"She's not going," I repeated, stepping off the bottom stair and closing the distance between us. "Because she showed me her back."
Meredith’s face drained of color. The emerald wrap slipped slightly off her shoulder. "Harrison... what are you talking about?"
"Ask your sister," I said, turning my gaze directly onto Jessica.
Jessica didn't flinch, but her hands tightened around her handbag strap until her knuckles turned white. "Oh, please. Don't start with your suburban melodrama, Harrison. Kids fall down. She scraped herself on the jungle gym at the park on Tuesday. Naturally, paranoid parents jump to ridiculous conclusions."
"A jungle gym leaves scrapes, Jessica," I whispered, stepping so close to her that she was forced to lean back against the coat rack. "A jungle gym doesn't leave deep purple fingerprints wrapped around a child's ribs. Fingerprints that match a man's large hands."
Marcus stepped forward, his chest puffing out, trying to use his height and intimidation. "Watch your tone, Harrison. You’re accusing my wife of child abuse based on some clumsy kid's playground accident? You’re out of your damn mind."
"Am I?" I turned to Meredith, searching her face for shock, for outrage, for anything that resembled a mother's instinct.
Instead, I saw guilt.
It flashed across her features for a fraction of a second—a guilty, panicked shrinking away from my gaze.
"Meredith," I breathed, my voice cracking. "Did you know?"
"Harrison, don't be ridiculous—" Meredith started, her voice pitching up nervously.
"Did you know?!" I roared, the anger finally breaking through the dam, shaking the walls of the hallway.
May you like
Marcus lunged forward, grabbing my collar. "Don't you dare raise your voice at my sister-in-law, you ungrateful—"
Before he could finish the sentence, I drove my fist straight into his jaw.
