Chapter 6

That weekend, I went to the police station at the scheduled time and watched the security footage they'd saved from the accident.

On the screen Lily is in the pale dress she wore that day, standing safely inside the line of bollards. Owen runs toward the road and she puts out a hand, as though to call him back.

An out-of-control car suddenly enters the pedestrian area. Vivian immediately grabs her son and pulls him behind her.

A second later she takes hold of Lily's right arm and shoves her hard, sending her forward and to the side.

Lily falls beyond the protection of the bollards and lands between the car and Vivian.

"Stop it there."

I had the officer rewind it and watched it again. My sister already had Owen behind her, and yet she put out her hand and pushed Lily out.

My daughter could have gone home that day without a scratch.

Lily had cried in her hospital bed, trying to explain, but Ethan had accused me of teaching her to lie. I rushed into the bathroom, braced myself against the sink, and dry-heaved. All I could see was my daughter falling.

Once Rachel had a usable copy of the footage, I called Ethan.

"I have the footage. Come to my lawyer's office and watch what you called a lie."

He was quiet for a moment.

"The police haven't reached a conclusion. Don't treat your opinion as a fact, Claire."

"I watched my sister push Lily out."

"It was chaotic out there. You can't take one movement and—"

"Then come and look at it yourself!" I cut him off. "You won't believe your daughter and you won't watch the video either?"

Somebody called him in the background. He lowered his voice and told me not to get worked up. Vivian hadn't slept well for several nights, he said.

"Lily hasn't slept well either. She wakes up in pain at night and asks me where her foot went. Have you once asked about her?"

He stopped talking. I hung up and leaned against the wall. It took me a long time to catch my breath.

That same day, a video from the birthday party started circulating among family and friends. It showed only me shoving Vivian and the glass breaking. Everything before it had been cut: Lily being forced to stand, falling, and getting hurt. The caption even quoted Ethan accusing me of being overprotective.

Even friends I had known for years messaged me to say I shouldn't take my bitterness over my marriage out on a widow and her son.

I typed a long explanation, but new comments kept appearing. Then Lily turned over in the bedroom and cried out for me. I immediately put down my phone and went to hold her. She was still asleep and only began to settle once her hand found mine.

My mother called as well, telling me to drop it and reminding me again that David had saved Ethan's life.

"What haven't I done for my sister over the years? Her mortgage, her son's school pickups, their living expenses. But Mom, I never agreed to pay that debt with Lily's hand and foot!"

I hung up. Later Rachel told me that my mother had forwarded Ethan the follow-up appointment details I'd sent her and told him to bring us home. It was the Monday checkup the doctor had set on Friday. When she'd asked how we were getting there, I hadn't kept it from her.

By Sunday night, Lily's wound was hurting more. I contacted the doctor and was told to keep the morning appointment and to go straight to the emergency department if she ran a fever overnight. I put her records and the car keys within easy reach. All night, I was afraid to let myself sleep too deeply.

Before bed, Lily asked quietly, "Will Daddy come?"

"I'm taking you. Don't be afraid." I kissed her. "Once they've checked you, we'll come straight back."

My screen lit up with a message from Ethan.

"Lily is my daughter too. You have no right to shut me out."

Monday morning I took her to St. Anne's for the follow-up.

She had slept badly and was dozing against the back of the chair. A nurse sent me to the registration desk a few steps away to hand in more paperwork, and I looked back and waved at Lily. She was still in the waiting area, in the nurse's line of sight.

When I came back with the papers, there was nothing there but an empty wheelchair.

My daughter was gone.