Chapter 2 - The Hidden Medicine
Inside the master suite of the Vance estate, the air was warm, but Lily could not stop shivering. David wrapped her in three thick plush towels, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed after helping her change into dry clothes.
"Drink this, sweetheart," David said softly, handing her a mug of hot tea.
Lily took the mug with shaking hands. "Daddy... am I going to be okay? Why couldn't I feel my legs until today?"
David stroked her wet hair back from her forehead. "I don't know yet, Lily. But I'm going to find out. Dr. Sterling is on his way over right now."
A sudden commotion down the hall signaled that Helen was not leaving quietly. The sound of high heels clattering down the marble corridor was followed by the abrupt opening of the bedroom door. Helen stood in the doorway, her designer handbag slung over her shoulder, her phone pressed to her ear.
"I’m telling you, Arthur, he’s lost his mind!" Helen talked loudly into the phone, ignoring David entirely. "He’s kicking me out over a misunderstanding!"
David stood up, moving between Helen and the bed where Lily sat. "Get off the phone and get out of my house."
Helen ended the call and tossed her phone onto the dresser. "David, you're being utterly irrational! I was trying to help her! She was filthy from sitting outside near the garden, and she refused to move. I lost my temper, yes, but spraying her with water isn't abuse!"
"You treated my daughter like an animal!" David took a menacing step forward. "For months, I’ve noticed how quiet Lily gets around you. I noticed the bruises on her wrists that you claimed came from her wheelchair transfers. I was a fool to trust you, Helen. But today ends it."
Helen’s demeanor shifted. The frantic defense evaporated, replaced by a cold, arrogant smirk.
"You think you can just throw me out?" Helen sneered. "We don't have a prenuptial agreement, David. Half of Vance Logistics belongs to me if we divorce. And as for your precious daughter... perhaps you should ask why her health has been declining so steadily over the past eighteen months."
David froze. "What did you say?"
"Check her nightstand, David," Helen said, her voice dripping with venomous amusement. "Check the daily supplement regimen Dr. Thorne prescribed for her—the one I so lovingly administered every morning."
David lunged toward the nightstand, pulling open the top drawer. Inside lay a bottle of small, unmarked orange capsules. He grabbed the bottle, his heart hammering against his ribs.
"What is this?" David demanded.
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"That," Helen said, gathering her coat, "is why she couldn't walk. And if you try to ruin me, David, you'll never prove a thing. Dr. Thorne will testify that it was all standard vitamin therapy."
Before David could grab her, Helen slipped out the door, her laughter echoing down the hallway as the front door slammed shut below.
