Chapter 1
Anselm did not argue with his wife again beside the fire pit.
He took Marcellus from Lissette long enough for her to stand without falling, then immediately returned the baby to his mother. The newborn was crying hard now, which the paramedic later described as one of the most reassuring sounds anyone on that lawn could have heard.
Anselm called 911 himself.
Theodora stared at him.
“You’re seriously calling the police?”
“You released a six-week-old baby over an open fire.”
“I lost my grip.”
Lissette turned toward her mother.
“No.”
Her voice shook, but not from uncertainty.
“You lifted him higher after I told you to give him back.”
The Older Sister—Corinne—said quickly:
“Everybody was screaming. Mom panicked.”
Lissette looked at her.
“You blocked me.”
“I was trying to stop you from knocking into her.”
“You stepped in front of me.”
“I was trying to help.”
Anselm said nothing.
He simply looked around the patio.
At least four guests had phones in their hands.
One neighbor, Dr. Warren Pike, had already been recording because he was filming a toast seconds before the confrontation began.
Another guest had captured the moment Corinne moved deliberately into Lissette’s path.
The house had exterior cameras too.
Anselm made one call to his home-security manager.
“Preserve everything from today. Nothing gets deleted, clipped, or exported except through counsel or police.”
Theodora stared at him.
“Anselm.”
“No.”
It was the first time in almost forty years of marriage that he answered her with only that word.
Paramedics examined Marcellus.
No burns.
No head injury.
No evidence he had touched the stone edge of the pit.
Anselm had caught him less than a foot above the flame line and rolled away with the baby protected against his chest.
Lissette still insisted on going to the pediatric emergency department.
Good.
Six-week-old infants did not get dismissed as fine because adults wanted an argument to end.
Marcellus was observed, fed, examined again, and eventually cleared medically.
Lissette stayed beside him the entire time.
Then Detective Claire Donovan arrived.
Anselm gave his statement.
Including the slap.
“You struck your wife after the baby was already back with his mother?”
“Yes.”
“Was Mrs. Arden attacking anyone at that moment?”
“No.”
“Advancing?”
“No.”
“Then why did you slap her?”
Anselm looked exhausted.
“Because I was furious.”
The detective nodded.
Theodora’s conduct did not make his retaliation disappear.
That would be handled separately.
Then Donovan interviewed Lissette.
The question that mattered most came near the end.
“Has your mother ever threatened your son before?”
“No.”
“Ever said he should not have been born?”
Lissette hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
“What has she said?”
Lissette looked down at Marcellus.
“She kept saying he came too soon.”
“Premature?”
“No.”
Marcellus had been born at thirty-nine weeks.
Healthy.
“She meant into the family.”
Detective Donovan waited.
Lissette continued.
“My sister has been trying to have a baby for years. Mom kept saying Corinne was supposed to give them the first grandchild.”
“Them?”
“Our family.”
Then Lissette remembered something else.
Three days after Marcellus was born, Theodora had not asked how much he weighed first.
She had asked:
“What exact time was he delivered?”
Lissette thought it was another example of her mother recording family details.
Theodora had written the answer into her calendar.
May you like
6:17 a.m.
Six weeks later, she nearly dropped him into a fire.
