Chapter 1
Jessi did not drive home.
She drove Fiona directly to a pediatric urgent-care clinic.
The little girl had stopped crying before they reached the parking lot.
That frightened Jessi more than the crying had.
Fiona sat silently in her car seat with one hand against her cheek.
Every few minutes she whispered:
“Mommy.”
“I’m here.”
At the clinic, the physician documented a superficial facial injury consistent with an open-handed strike.
No fracture.
No neurological symptoms.
No serious physical injury.
But the doctor still asked the question required by the circumstances.
“Who hit her?”
Jessi answered:
“Her grandmother.”
“Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Who else saw it?”
“My husband.”
The doctor looked up.
“And what did he do?”
“Nothing.”
Jessi’s voice almost broke on that word.
Nothing.
Not until Jessi crossed the banquet hall.
Not until she grabbed Fiona away from Wendy.
Not until the cake ended up smashed across Wendy’s chest during the struggle.
Luca finally moved then.
To protect Wendy.
Not Fiona.
The clinic made the required child-safety report.
Jessi expected that.
She did not object.
Then she called the police herself.
She gave a full statement.
Including the part that did not flatter her.
After Wendy slapped Fiona, Jessi grabbed the birthday cake and shoved it into Wendy while pulling her daughter away.
“I lost my temper.”
The officer asked:
“Did you hit Wendy?”
“With my hand? No.”
“Did you intentionally push the cake into her?”
“Yes.”
That conduct would be reviewed separately.
Jessi was not going to edit the story until she became the perfect mother.
Then she called Luca.
He answered on the sixth ring.
“Where are you?”
“The clinic.”
“You took her to a doctor over a slap?”
Jessi closed her eyes.
“Listen to yourself.”
“My mom barely touched her.”
“She left a mark.”
“She’s two. Her skin gets red.”
“Did Wendy hit her?”
Silence.
“Luca.”
“You know how Mom gets when kids act up.”
Jessi went still.
Not:
I didn’t see it.
Not:
It was an accident.
Not:
Fiona fell.
You know how Mom gets.
A pattern hidden inside five words.
Then Luca said:
“You made a scene in front of everybody.”
Jessi looked through the clinic window at Fiona asleep against a stuffed bear.
“My daughter got hit in front of everybody.”
“And now you’re calling police.”
“Yes.”
“Jesus, Jessi.”
She ended the call.
Twenty minutes later, her phone received a message from a woman named Marissa Cole.
Jessi knew the name vaguely.
Marissa had worked at Wendy’s childcare center.
May you like
The message contained only one sentence.
Please don’t let Luca convince you this was the first time Wendy hit a child.
