Chapter 8: What She Did Next
I was wrong about one thing.
I had told Vanessa to be g*ne when I came back.
She was not g*ne.
She was sitting in the living room with a woman I had never seen before, and a man I recognized as the solicitor who had handled our marriage paperwork fourteen months ago.
I stopped in the doorway.
Sophie was on my hip, half-asleep from the car ride, her head on my shoulder.
"Daniel," Vanessa said.
She had changed into something more formal.
Her voice was composed.
"I think we need to talk."
"You need to leave my house."
"This is a shared residence.
My solicitor has advised me—"
"Your solicitor handled a marriage that wasn't legal," I said.
"Because you were already married to Marcus Hale when you married me.
Which means you have no claim to this residence.
Which means you need to leave."
The solicitor — a thin man named Greer, I remembered now, who had seemed slightly too eager to move through the paperwork — shifted in his chair.
"Mr.
Mercer, that's a very serious allegation—"
"I have the marriage certificate.
Dated four years ago.
Marcus Hale's solicitor will be contacting you directly." I looked at Vanessa.
"He's also filing a report with the Solicitors Regulation Authority regarding the family court filings.
The ones you accessed without authorization.
The ones you used to keep a restraining order active against a woman who had done nothing wrong."
The unknown woman — Vanessa's companion — stood up.
"I think we should—"
"Who are you?" I said.
"I'm a friend of Vanessa's."
"Then I'd like you to take her and leave my home."
Vanessa stood.
She was very still, the way she had been still in the kitchen the night before.
Calculating.
Running options.
"You're going to regret this," she said.
"Rachel is not stable.
Whatever she told you, whatever documents she showed you — she has a history of fabrication.
I have medical records.
I have statements from her treatment team.
If you pursue this, I will use every one of them."
"Those records are from a period when you were her primary support person," I said.
"When you were the one feeding information to her treatment team.
Her current psychiatrist — who she's been seeing for the past eighteen months — has already provided a letter confirming she is well and has been consistently well.
Rachel's solicitor has it."
Something moved behind Vanessa's eyes.
"You've been planning this," she said.
"You pushed my daughter into a pool.
I've been moving fast."
"Daniel." Her voice dropped.
Just for a moment, something else came through — not guilt, but something adjacent to it.
Something that might have been, in a different person, the beginning of remorse.
"I did what I did because I love you.
I know that sounds—"
"Don't."
"I know how it sounds.
But when Rachel was in that hospital, I saw a chance.
I had loved you for years before she did.
I thought if she was out of the picture, if you had time to—"
"You told a woman recovering from a serious illness that her partner had abandoned her.
You took her daughter from her for two years.
And then you tried to drown that daughter in a swimming pool." I kept my voice level.
"Whatever you felt for me — that's not love.
I don't know what it is.
But it is not love."
She looked at me for a long moment.
Then she picked up her bag.
"You'll hear from my solicitor," she said.
"I expect so."
She walked to the door.
At the threshold she stopped, and for a moment I thought she was going to say something that mattered.
Something true.
Instead she said: "She'll hurt you again.
She always does."
Then she left.
The door closed.
Sophie lifted her head from my shoulder.
"Is the lady g*ne?" she said.
May you like
"Yes, bug."
"Good," said Sophie, and put her head back down.
