Chapter 6: The Confrontation She Didn't Expect
He called her at noon.
She answered on the first ring.
"I've been waiting to hear from you," she said.
Her voice was soft, practiced.
"Last night was terrible.
I know that.
But I think if we just sit down and talk—"
"I want to meet," he said.
"Today.
Four o'clock.
The coffee shop on Mercer."
A brief pause.
"Of course.
Yes.
I'll be there."
She arrived seven minutes early.
He arrived exactly on time.
She was already seated when he walked in, her hands folded on the table, a careful expression arranged on her face — somewhere between remorse and dignity.
She had dressed well.
She had thought about this.
He sat down across from her and placed the manila envelope on the table between them.
She looked at it.
Her expression didn't move.
"I want to apologize," she began.
"What happened with your daughter—"
"Her name is Lily," he said.
She blinked.
"What?"
"You have never once used her name.
In fourteen months.
You call her 'your daughter' or 'the child.' Her name is Lily."
A small silence.
"I want to apologize for what happened with Lily," she said carefully.
"I was overwhelmed.
The stress of the wedding—"
"Who is Carter Hollis?"
The careful expression cracked.
Just slightly.
Just enough.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
He opened the envelope and placed the first photograph on the table.
The text thread.
Her name at the top.
She looked at it.
She didn't touch it.
"Where did you get that?"
"Does it matter?"
"Those are private messages.
You have no right—"
"You told him you needed to get the ring first." He placed the second photograph beside the first.
The bank statement.
"And he's been paying you the whole time."
Her jaw tightened.
"You don't understand the situation."
"Then explain it to me."
She leaned forward.
The softness left her voice entirely.
"You want the truth?
Fine.
You were a good option.
Stable income, paid-off house, no complications — except for that child.
I tried to make it work.
I genuinely tried."
"You told my daughter she was a mistake."
She sat back.
"I was frustrated."
"She was six years old and she was alone with you and you told her she should never have been born." He kept his voice level.
"I have you saying it.
On a recording."
The color left her face.
"That's not possible."
"It is." He picked up the photographs and slid them back into the envelope.
"I spoke to Patrick this morning.
He's already contacted the bank about the fraudulent access to my accounts.
He's also filing a police report about the items removed from my home this morning without my permission."
She stood up.
"You are making a very serious mistake."
"Sit down."
"I will not—"
"Carter sent me a message this morning telling me to walk away." He looked up at her.
"I want you to understand something.
I'm not walking away.
And if either of you contacts me, my daughter, or anyone connected to us again, the recording goes to every person who was in that venue yesterday.
And then it goes further."
She stared at him.
"You should go," he said.
"And you should take your key off the ring before you leave."
Her hand moved to her purse.
Slowly.
She unclipped the house key and set it on the table without a word.
She walked to the door.
She stopped with her hand on the frame.
"You'll regret this," she said.
"You think you know everything.
You don't."
She left.
He sat alone at the table for a moment.
Then he picked up the key and turned it over in his hand.
His phone buzzed.
A text from Patrick.
*"Police confirmed the report.
May you like
Carter Hollis has a prior.
You need to call me now."*
