Chapter 6 - THE SILENT HOUR
The kitchen fell into a heavy, suffocating quiet, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator and Emma’s soft, rhythmic sobs against Daniel’s shoulder.
Victoria remained on the floor near the shattered wine glass, pressing a hand against her swelling, red cheek. The mask of the refined suburban mother had cracked completely. Her eyes flicked frantically around the room—from the camera mounted in the smoke detector to the back door—calculating her legal exposure, her social reputation, and her financial survival.
"Daniel," Victoria began, her voice trembling as she tried to adopt a tone of fragile innocence. "You’re in shock. You’re reacting emotionally. If you just let me explain—"
"If you speak another word in front of my daughter," Daniel said, his back still turned as he held Emma, "I will make sure you spend the rest of this night in an interrogation room."
He stood up smoothly, lifting Emma into his arms as if she weighed nothing. The seven-year-old wrapped her small arms tightly around his neck, burying her face into the crook of his collarbone, refusing to let go.
Without looking back at Victoria, Daniel carried Emma out of the kitchen, up the grand carpeted staircase, and into her bedroom.
He set her down gently on her bed, pulling the thick down comforter over her shoulders. For the next hour, Daniel sat on the edge of the mattress, holding her tiny, cold hand until her breathing slowed and she finally drifted into an exhausted sleep.
Once he was certain she was asleep, Daniel leaned down, kissed her forehead, and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Emma. I promise you, she will never touch you again."
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He stood up, his face hardening into absolute stone. He walked into his home office, locked the door, and opened his private laptop.
It was time to audit his own house.
