PART 2 — THE STATEMENT AGAINST ME
“I already told you I won’t.”
Paige’s voice trembled, but she held Grant’s gaze.
From beneath the bed, I could see only their shoes. Paige’s white sneakers stood beside Molly’s black boots. Grant’s polished brown shoes were positioned directly in front of them.
He picked up the paper.
“You clearly don’t understand what’s happening,” he said. “This is not a request.”
“Then why does it need my signature?”
For several seconds, Grant said nothing.
My phone continued recording beside my hand.
I barely breathed.
Finally, he lowered his voice.
“Because a judge will listen to you before he listens to either of us.”
My stomach tightened.
Paige stepped backward.
“What does the statement say?”
“You already read it.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Grant exhaled sharply.
“It says your mother has become emotionally unstable since our separation. It says she loses her temper, leaves you alone, and makes you afraid to stay in this house.”
Every word struck me like a physical blow.
I had never left Paige alone overnight.
I had never threatened her.
I had never made her afraid of me.
Grant was trying to turn our daughter into evidence.
Molly spoke before Paige could respond.
“None of that is true.”
“This is a family matter,” Grant said. “Stay out of it.”
“You brought papers into her bedroom and threatened her,” Molly replied. “That makes it my business.”
Grant’s shoes moved toward her.
Paige immediately stepped between them.
“Don’t touch her.”
“I wasn’t going to touch anyone.”
“You grabbed my wrist yesterday.”
The room became completely silent.
My fingers curled against the carpet.
Yesterday?
Grant had been alone with Paige yesterday?
He had told me he was attending meetings all afternoon.
“You were being hysterical,” he said.
“You wouldn’t let me leave your apartment.”
“I was trying to have a conversation with my daughter.”
“You locked the door.”
My heart pounded so loudly that I feared they would hear it.
Molly reached into her jacket pocket.
Grant noticed.
“Give me your phone.”
“No.”
“Molly.”
“You’re not my father.”
“Give me the phone.”
He moved quickly.
Molly gasped, and I heard a brief struggle. Something struck the floor and slid beneath the desk.
“Stop!” Paige shouted.
Grant’s breathing grew heavier.
“Neither of you understands how serious this is.”
Paige’s voice hardened.
“I understand perfectly. You want me to lie so you can take me away from Mom.”
“I am trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From a woman who has no idea how close she is to losing everything.”
My blood turned cold.
Paige must have felt the same fear because her voice became quieter.
“What did you do?”
Grant did not answer.
“What did you do to Mom?”
“I gave her opportunities to make reasonable choices.”
“You mean moving away with you?”
“That would have solved everything.”
“For you.”
“For all of us.”
“You don’t care about all of us,” Paige said. “You care about winning.”
Grant struck the clipboard against the desk.
The sudden crack made both girls jump.
I pressed my fist against my mouth.
“Sign the statement,” he said. “You will tell the court that you want to live with me. You will explain that your mother has been behaving unpredictably, and you will confirm that she threatened to keep you from me.”
“She never threatened that.”
“She refused to move.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“It will be once the judge reads this.”
Paige’s shoes shifted closer to the bed.
She was standing only inches from my face now.
I could hear the uneven rhythm of her breathing.
“What happens after I sign?” she asked.
Grant’s tone softened.
“We leave tonight.”
Molly whispered, “Tonight?”
“There’s no reason to drag this out.”
“What about school?” Paige asked.
“I already transferred your records.”
My daughter went still.
“You did what?”
“The new school accepted you last week.”
“But Mom has to sign the transfer forms.”
Grant did not respond.
Paige understood before I did.
“You forged her signature.”
“I completed paperwork that should have been completed weeks ago.”
“You forged it.”
“Lower your voice.”
“You forged Mom’s name!”
Grant stepped closer.
“This is exactly why I told you not to bring Molly.”
Paige laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“You thought I would be too scared to fight back if I was alone.”
“I thought you would behave rationally.”
“You locked me inside your apartment yesterday.”
“Stop saying that.”
“You took my phone.”
“You were attempting to call your mother before I had explained the situation.”
“You told me she was sick.”
My chest tightened again.
Grant had lied to lure her there.
“You said she had collapsed at work,” Paige continued. “You said you were taking me to the hospital. Then you drove me to your apartment and showed me these papers.”
“I did what was necessary to make you listen.”
“That’s why I started taking pictures.”
Grant’s shoes stopped moving.
“What pictures?”
Paige did not answer.
“What pictures, Paige?”
“The ones on your desk.”
His voice changed instantly.
The artificial patience disappeared.
“What did you photograph?”
“Everything.”
Grant crossed the room so quickly that Paige cried out.
I heard the sound of his hand closing around her arm.
“Where are they?”
“Let go of me!”
“Did you send them to anyone?”
“Grant!” Molly shouted.
“Answer me!”
That was the moment every instinct in my body demanded that I crawl out.
But Paige had said she needed proof.
If I revealed myself too soon, Grant would claim this had been a misunderstanding. He would say he had merely prepared documents for a custody discussion.
I needed him to admit what he had done.
So I remained beneath the bed, hating myself for every second of it.
Paige’s voice broke.
“You’re hurting me.”
Grant released her.
“Tell me what you saw.”
“The plane tickets.”
A long silence followed.
Molly whispered, “What plane tickets?”
Paige continued before Grant could stop her.
“They weren’t for another state. They were for Montreal.”
Montreal?
Grant’s new job was supposedly in Oregon.
He had shown me photographs of the office.
He had discussed the neighborhood where he wanted us to live.
It had all been a lie.
“You misunderstood what you saw,” he said.
“There were two tickets,” Paige replied. “One for you and one for me.”
“They were refundable reservations.”
“Then why were they booked under different names?”
I felt the room tilt around me.
Grant’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“You should never have opened that folder.”
“What names?” Molly asked.
Paige answered.
“Graham Mercer and Peyton Mercer.”
My hand tightened around my phone.
Grant had created new identities.
For himself.
And for our daughter.
“Where did you send the pictures?” he demanded.
“Somewhere you can’t delete them.”
“Paige, listen carefully. Those documents have nothing to do with your mother.”
“Then explain them.”
“I don’t owe a thirteen-year-old an explanation.”
“You owe me one when my photograph is attached to a passport with someone else’s name.”
I nearly cried out.
A passport.
Grant had prepared a false passport for Paige.
This was no longer a custody dispute.
He was planning to disappear with her.
Grant began pacing.
“You have no idea what your mother has done to this family.”
“What did she do?”
“She refused to trust me.”
“Maybe because you lie about everything.”
“I built our life!”
“You’re trying to steal mine!”
The words echoed through the bedroom.
Then Grant’s voice became frighteningly calm.
“Sign the statement.”
“No.”
“If you sign it, we can leave peacefully.”
“No.”
“If you don’t, I will tell the police that your mother instructed you to steal confidential documents from my apartment.”
Paige’s breath caught.
“You know that isn’t true.”
“I will tell them she has been manipulating you since the separation. I will show them the messages she sent about keeping you here.”
“She said she wanted me to finish the school year!”
“A court will see parental alienation.”
“You planned this.”
“I prepared for every possibility.”
Molly spoke quietly.
“Including witnesses?”
Grant turned toward her.
“What?”
“You said you prepared for every possibility. Did you prepare for me?”
“You are a child.”
“A child who heard everything.”
“Not after I speak with your mother.”
Molly’s boots moved backward.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your mother will understand the consequences of interfering in another family’s custody dispute.”
“Leave her out of this,” Paige said.
“Then sign.”
“No.”
Grant slapped the paper onto the desk.
“Your mother will be arrested before dinner.”
My body went rigid.
Paige’s voice cracked.
“For what?”
“Assault.”
“She never assaulted you.”
Grant gave a soft, humorless laugh.
“You weren’t there six weeks ago.”
“I was upstairs.”
“You were asleep.”
“I heard everything.”
Another silence followed.
Then Paige said something I had never expected.
“I heard you hit yourself.”
My eyes widened beneath the bed.
Grant took one step toward her.
“What did you say?”
“The night you left,” Paige continued. “I heard you and Mom arguing downstairs. Then she went into the kitchen. You stayed in the hallway.”
“Stop.”
“I looked through the railing. I saw you punch your own face.”
“Stop talking.”
“You hit yourself twice. Then you took pictures of the bruise.”
Grant’s hand struck the wall.
Molly screamed.
I almost emerged again, but Paige kept speaking.
“You wanted evidence against her before you ever moved out.”
“You saw nothing.”
“I recorded part of it.”
Grant became completely still.
My daughter had known for six weeks.
She had been carrying this alone while I wondered why she had grown quiet, why she locked her bedroom door, and why her grades had begun to fall.
“Where is that recording?” Grant asked.
“Safe.”
“On your phone?”
“No.”
“Your laptop?”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“You’ll find out when Mom’s lawyer gets it.”
Grant’s shoes turned toward the bedroom door.
For one hopeful second, I thought he was leaving.
Instead, he closed the door and turned the lock.
Molly whispered, “What are you doing?”
“No one leaves until I have those recordings.”
Paige backed toward the bed.
“You can’t keep us here.”
“I’m your father.”
“You’re terrifying me.”
“Then sign the paper, Paige.”
“No.”
Grant took another step.
“Sign it, or I’ll take you away from your mother tonight—with or without your permission.”
That was enough.
I pushed against the floor and slid out from beneath the bed.
Dust covered my clothes and hair, but Grant’s expression told me he understood immediately.
His face drained of color.
Paige stared at me.
“Mom?”
I rose slowly, holding my phone in front of me.
Grant looked from me to the recording screen.
“Laurel,” he said carefully. “This is not what it sounds like.”
“It sounds like you forged my signature, obtained a false passport, threatened two children, and planned to take our daughter out of the country.”
“You were hiding under her bed?”
“Yes.”
“That proves you’re unstable.”
“No,” Molly said. “It proves she heard you.”
Grant pointed toward her.
“Stay out of this.”
I stepped between him and the girls.
“Give Molly her phone.”
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“I know exactly what I’m doing.”
I lifted my phone.
“And every word you said has been recorded.”
Grant’s eyes narrowed.
Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.
It was not the expression of a man who had been caught.
It was the expression of a man who had been waiting for something.
“You should check whether it was saved,” he said.
I looked at the screen.
The recording timer was still running.
Three hours, eleven minutes.
“It’s saved automatically.”
“On the phone,” he replied. “But not anywhere else.”
Before I could react, he lunged.
I turned away and clutched the phone against my chest.
Grant grabbed my wrist.
Paige screamed.
Molly rushed toward the door.
All four of us froze when pounding erupted downstairs.
“Police!” a man shouted. “Open the door!”
Relief swept through me.
Mrs. Talbot must have seen Grant enter and called them.
Grant immediately released my wrist.
Then he calmly straightened his jacket.
“What did you do?” I whispered.
He looked toward the bedroom door.
“I told you I prepared for every possibility.”
The pounding came again.
“Police! Mrs. Bennett, open the door immediately!”
They were calling for me.
Not Grant.
He leaned closer and spoke so quietly that only I could hear him.
“The officers aren’t here to stop me, Laurel.”
Heavy footsteps entered the house.
Grant’s smile widened.
“They’re here to arrest you.”
Seconds later, the bedroom door burst open.
Two officers entered with their hands near their weapons.
One looked directly at me.
“Laurel Bennett, step away from your daughter.”
Paige grabbed my arm.
“She didn’t do anything!”
The officer pulled out a folded document.
“We have an emergency protection order alleging that Mrs. Bennett assaulted her husband, abducted her daughter from school, and threatened to flee the state.”
“That’s a lie!” Paige cried.
I looked at Grant.
He stood behind the officers, wearing the expression of a frightened husband.
Then I noticed the signature at the bottom of the protection order.
It was supposed to be mine.
And beneath it was the name of the person who had sworn that the accusations were true.
Mrs. Talbot.
Our neighbor.
The woman whose warning had convinced me to hide beneath Paige’s bed in the first place………………
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 3…
