Chapter 2 · My Husband Gave Our Daughter's Story to Another Child

By 9:30 PM, the house was dark.

Lucy had gone straight to her bedroom, placing her shoes neatly by the closet door without asking for dinner.

I stood at the kitchen counter, watching the tea bag steep in my mug, when the front door unlocked.

Daniel walked in, tossing his keys into the ceramic bowl by the entryway.

"Mara," he sighed, pouring a glass of water. "I know tonight was disappointing. But you can't react like that in front of the board."

"Are you really pretending you don't remember Lucy's book? Her preliminary-draft folder was in her bag when we left this house, Daniel," I said. "She drew that book at our kitchen table."

Daniel set his glass down.

"It could be a simple editorial mix-up, or maybe they just shared the same inspiration," Daniel murmured, adjusting his cufflink with frustrating composure.

"Either way, you don't ruin a launch in front of the press line, Mara. Learn to handle things privately instead of embarrassing us on stage."

I stared at him, my throat working as I forced down the bitter wave of fury rising in my chest.

I opened my mouth to pull the lie right out of his throat, but the bedroom door opened a crack.

Lucy's small, pale face appeared in the shadow.

I couldn't let her see us tearing each other apart. Not tonight.

He walked past me down the hall to Lucy's room.

Lucy was sitting under her blanket, staring at the wall.

Daniel sat on the edge of her mattress and reached out to smooth her hair.

"Hey, sweet pea," he murmured. "Tomorrow morning, I'll make those blueberry pancakes you like. Okay?"

Lucy didn't answer.

"All right. I'll check the office files first thing tomorrow," Daniel added, tapping her knee gently through the blanket. "If there was a mix-up with the credits, we'll sort it out. I promise."

Lucy looked up, her dark eyes searching his face. "You promise, Dad?"

"Cross my heart," Daniel said, offering a warm, reassuring smile.

He kissed her forehead and walked out toward his home office.

I finished pulling the blanket over Lucy's shoulders, my heart tight with a sudden, sickening weight.

"Mom?" she whispered into the quiet room.

"What's wrong, Lucy?"

"Maybe it was an editor's mistake. Remember four months ago when I gave Dad my blue hand-bound picture book? You said he could help me."

A cold ache settled behind my ribs. I had been the one who told her to trust him.

"He told me it was a surprise for the publishers," Lucy added softly.

I stood up, walked down the hall, and pushed open the door to Daniel's office.

He was already at his desk, typing on his laptop.

"Lucy gave you her blue hand-bound picture book four months ago because I told her she could trust you with it," I said from the doorway.

Daniel's fingers stayed on the keys. He didn't look up immediately.

"I brought it to the office to show the panel, Mara."

"Or handed directly to Rebecca?" I asked.

Daniel closed his laptop with a click.

"How many times do I have to say this, Mara? Can't you just trust me at all?" He snapped.

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped down my spine, instantly turned to pure, scalding rage.

"This is about our daughter Lucy, Daniel. Do you get that?" I asked him.

A soft knock sounded against the doorframe behind me.

"Mom?" Lucy's quiet voice broke through the air. She stood in the hallway in her pajamas, holding her stuffed rabbit. "I can't sleep."

I bit back my reply and looked at Daniel.

"I'm coming, sweet pea." I turned my back on Daniel.

I walked Lucy back to her room and sat on the edge of her bed.

Every square inch of her room was covered in Lucy's art.

I opened her favorite storybook, forcing my voice into a low, soothing rhythm as I read about little bears and starry nights.

"Mom, can I have my stuff back?" Lucy mumbled quietly.

I hesitated for a second, then told her, "Of course, honey. Mom promises you that."

She rubbed one of the stuffed rabbit's ears between her fingers.

"Mom?"

"What is it?"

"Was I supposed to put my name in the blue book?"

My hand stopped on the storybook.

"Of course. Why?"

Lucy's eyes stayed on the rabbit.

"I wrote my name on the first page," Lucy whispered. "But Dad made me erase it."

Chapter 2

By 9:30 PM, the house was dark.

Lucy had gone straight to her bedroom, placing her shoes neatly by the closet door without asking for dinner.

I stood at the kitchen counter, watching the tea bag steep in my mug, when the front door unlocked.

Daniel walked in, tossing his keys into the ceramic bowl by the entryway.

"Mara," he sighed, pouring a glass of water. "I know tonight was disappointing. But you can't react like that in front of the board."

"Are you really pretending you don't remember Lucy's book? Her preliminary-draft folder was in her bag when we left this house, Daniel," I said. "She drew that book at our kitchen table."

Daniel set his glass down.

"It could be a simple editorial mix-up, or maybe they just shared the same inspiration," Daniel murmured, adjusting his cufflink with frustrating composure.

"Either way, you don't ruin a launch in front of the press line, Mara. Learn to handle things privately instead of embarrassing us on stage."

I stared at him, my throat working as I forced down the bitter wave of fury rising in my chest.

I opened my mouth to pull the lie right out of his throat, but the bedroom door opened a crack.

Lucy's small, pale face appeared in the shadow.

I couldn't let her see us tearing each other apart. Not tonight.

He walked past me down the hall to Lucy's room.

Lucy was sitting under her blanket, staring at the wall.

Daniel sat on the edge of her mattress and reached out to smooth her hair.

"Hey, sweet pea," he murmured. "Tomorrow morning, I'll make those blueberry pancakes you like. Okay?"

Lucy didn't answer.

"All right. I'll check the office files first thing tomorrow," Daniel added, tapping her knee gently through the blanket. "If there was a mix-up with the credits, we'll sort it out. I promise."

Lucy looked up, her dark eyes searching his face. "You promise, Dad?"

"Cross my heart," Daniel said, offering a warm, reassuring smile.

He kissed her forehead and walked out toward his home office.

I finished pulling the blanket over Lucy's shoulders, my heart tight with a sudden, sickening weight.

"Mom?" she whispered into the quiet room.

"What's wrong, Lucy?"

"Maybe it was an editor's mistake. Remember four months ago when I gave Dad my blue hand-bound picture book? You said he could help me."

A cold ache settled behind my ribs. I had been the one who told her to trust him.

"He told me it was a surprise for the publishers," Lucy added softly.

I stood up, walked down the hall, and pushed open the door to Daniel's office.

He was already at his desk, typing on his laptop.

"Lucy gave you her blue hand-bound picture book four months ago because I told her she could trust you with it," I said from the doorway.

Daniel's fingers stayed on the keys. He didn't look up immediately.

"I brought it to the office to show the panel, Mara."

"Or handed directly to Rebecca?" I asked.

Daniel closed his laptop with a click.

"How many times do I have to say this, Mara? Can't you just trust me at all?" He snapped.

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped down my spine, instantly turned to pure, scalding rage.

"This is about our daughter Lucy, Daniel. Do you get that?" I asked him.

A soft knock sounded against the doorframe behind me.

"Mom?" Lucy's quiet voice broke through the air. She stood in the hallway in her pajamas, holding her stuffed rabbit. "I can't sleep."

I bit back my reply and looked at Daniel.

"I'm coming, sweet pea." I turned my back on Daniel.

I walked Lucy back to her room and sat on the edge of her bed.

Every square inch of her room was covered in Lucy's art.

I opened her favorite storybook, forcing my voice into a low, soothing rhythm as I read about little bears and starry nights.

"Mom, can I have my stuff back?" Lucy mumbled quietly.

I hesitated for a second, then told her, "Of course, honey. Mom promises you that."

She rubbed one of the stuffed rabbit's ears between her fingers.

"Mom?"

"What is it?"

"Was I supposed to put my name in the blue book?"

My hand stopped on the storybook.

"Of course. Why?"

Lucy's eyes stayed on the rabbit.

"I wrote my name on the first page," Lucy whispered. "But Dad made me erase it."