Chapter 5: The First Countermove
My attorney's name was Patricia Wren.
I had used her twice before — once for a contract dispute, once when a business partner tried to restructure an agreement without telling me.
She was sixty-one years old, five feet two, and had a voice that made courtrooms go quiet without her raising it.
I called her at seven the next morning.
She picked up on the second ring.
"Victor." Not a question.
She'd seen my name.
"I need you today," I said.
"Not this week.
Today."
"Tell me."
I told her.
All of it.
The arm.
The notebook.
Lily.
The hospital report.
The calls from Serena's mother and the family attorney.
Patricia didn't interrupt once.
When I finished, she said: "Where is Serena now?"
"Her mother's, I assume.
She left last night."
"Has she tried to re-enter the house?"
"Not yet."
"Change the locks this morning.
Before nine.
I'll send you a locksmith I trust." A pause.
"The notebook — don't let it out of your hands.
Don't photograph it on your personal phone.
Bring it to me in a sealed envelope."
"I can be there by ten."
"Nine-thirty," she said.
"And Victor — don't speak to Serena directly.
Not a text, not a call.
If she contacts you, forward it to me immediately."
"Understood."
"One more thing." Her voice shifted slightly.
"The nanny.
Lily.
What's her status?"
I told her.
A brief silence.
"That's what they'll use," Patricia said.
"They'll try to make her the story.
Discredit her before she can speak."
"I know."
"Then we need to move faster than they expect." Another pause.
"I have a colleague — immigration attorney, excellent, owes me a favor.
I'd like to loop her in today, with Lily's permission."
I looked across the kitchen.
Lily was at the counter, giving Ethan his morning bottle, her eyes tired but steady.
"I'll ask her," I said.
I hung up and set the phone on the table.
Lily looked over.
"Was that your lawyer?"
"Yes.
She wants to bring in an immigration attorney to help protect you.
It's your choice.
You don't have to agree."
She was quiet for a moment.
Then: "Will it make things harder for you?
If I'm involved officially?"
"It makes things harder for Serena," I said.
"That's the point."
Something in her face shifted.
Not quite a smile.
Something more careful than that.
My phone buzzed on the table.
A text from a number I didn't recognize.
*Victor.
This is Douglas Harpe.
I represent Serena Calloway.
My client is prepared to discuss a mutual resolution that avoids unnecessary legal proceedings.
I'd encourage you to call me before you take any further steps.
For everyone's sake — including your son's.*
I read it twice.
Then I forwarded it to Patricia and put the phone face-down.
For everyone's sake.
Including your son's.
I looked at Ethan in Lily's arms.
His splinted forearm.
His graham cracker from the night before still sitting on the edge of the counter where he'd dropped it.
I picked up my keys.
"I'll be back by noon," I said.
May you like
"Lock the door behind me."
What I didn't know was that Douglas Harpe had already filed a motion that morning — and that one line buried inside it would change everything about who this case was actually about.
