Chapter 2: The Wrong Time, Sent on Purpose
Vanessa started small.
A missed pickup here.
A forgotten school form there.
Little things she could whisper into Graham's ear at the right moment.
"She didn't show up again," Vanessa said one evening, her voice soft with fake concern.
"Maisie waited by the window for an hour."
Graham's jaw tightened.
"An hour?"
"I didn't want to say anything.
But this is the third time this month."
What Vanessa didn't mention was that she had sent Naomi the wrong pickup time.
Deliberately.
Forty minutes late, typed out in a cheerful message with a smiley face at the end.
Then came the phone calls.
Vanessa would sit beside Maisie and dial Naomi's number during bath time, during dinner, during the one window she knew Naomi was unreachable.
When Naomi called back, Vanessa would hand the phone to Maisie and whisper, "Tell Mummy you missed her.
Tell her you cried."
Maisie was four.
She didn't know she was being used.
But someone else in that house was starting to notice.
Graham's mother had said nothing yet.
But Naomi had seen the way she watched Vanessa at Sunday dinner — quiet, still, her eyes moving between the little girl and the woman who smiled too easily.
The older woman reached into her cardigan pocket and placed something on the table.
A folded piece of paper.
"I think," she said carefully, "that you should read this before Graham does."
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What was written on that paper — and how far back does this go?
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The full truth is darker than anyone expected.
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