I had kissed her forehead, handed her to Camille and walked out the door.
Sometimes Lily screamed my name.
Camille would smile.
“I've got her.”
And I left.
“What happened when you confronted Camille?”
“She told me you supported stricter discipline.”
“I never did.”
“She showed me messages.”
“What messages?”
“From your account.”
I looked at Thomas.
He understood immediately.
Nora continued.
“They said you were frustrated with Lily's behavior. They said I was not to interfere.”
“They were fake.”
“I know that now.”
“How?”
“Because I tried replying directly and the email bounced once.”
I stood.
“Do you still have the messages?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Another pause.
“Photos.”
“What kind?”
“Marks on Lily's arms.”
My eyes closed.
“And recordings?”
“I tried.”
“Tried?”
“Camille caught me.”
“What happened?”
“She took my phone. The next morning there was a termination package waiting for me.”
“She fired you.”
“Yes.”
“You said you resigned.”
“That is what she ordered me to say.”
My anger became strangely quiet.
“Nora, I need everything.”
“I kept copies.”
“Good.”
“Mr. Whitmore?”
“Yes?”
“Please don't tell her where I am.”
That frightened me.
Nora wasn't only worried about losing a job.
She was afraid of Camille.
I arranged for Thomas to send two trusted investigators to collect her evidence.
Then I called Dr. Helen Shaw, a pediatric trauma specialist our family foundation had worked with for years.
She came to the estate after midnight.
She watched Lily play for twenty minutes without asking her anything.
Then she noticed what I had missed.
Lily monitored doors.
Whenever footsteps approached the hallway, she stopped playing.
Whenever a woman spoke loudly outside, she reached for me.
When Dr. Shaw dimmed a lamp slightly, Lily immediately became tense.
Helen looked at me.
“I want you to hear this carefully.”
I nodded.
“She is displaying behaviors consistent with repeated fear conditioning.”
My stomach tightened.
“Can you prove what happened?”
“Not tonight. And don't pressure her for details. She's two.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“She can be.”
Can be.
Not will be.
I looked at my daughter.
“Did I do this to her?”
Helen shook her head slightly.
“That question might matter later. Tonight, what matters is what you do now.”
The evidence Nora kept arrived at 1:17 in the morning.
Fake emails bearing my name.
Photographs of bruises.
Notes documenting nighttime panic.
A video taken through the half-open nursery door.
It lasted only nineteen seconds.
Camille was kneeling in front of Lily.
My daughter was crying.
“You want Daddy?”
Lily nodded.
“Then stop being difficult.”
“Daddy.”