Chapter 6 - The Report Against Me
The call from child protective services came at 8:06 the next morning.
I almost dropped Noah.
“Mrs. Harrison, my name is Karen Willis. I'm calling regarding a report concerning your son.”
My heart stopped.
“What report?”
“An allegation of neglect.”
I looked at Ethan.
He went pale.
“That can't be.”
Karen's voice remained professional.
“We need to visit you today.”
“Who made the report?”
“I can't disclose that over the phone.”
“I need to know.”
“You will have an opportunity to respond during the investigation.”
My hands started shaking.
“What exactly was alleged?”
She paused.
“That your child was transported without an appropriate car seat, that you were physically unable to care for him because of an untreated injury, and that you have been financially and emotionally unstable.”
I looked down at my ankle.
Then at Noah.
“I have a medical wrap.”
“I understand.”
“I have always cared for my son.”
“I didn't say otherwise.”
“But someone did.”
Karen sighed.
“I'll see you at ten.”
When the call ended, I couldn't breathe.
Ethan moved toward me.
“Camila.”
“Don't.”
“I swear I didn't make the report.”
“I didn't say you did.”
“You were thinking it.”
I looked at him.
“I don't know what to think.”
Dad entered the room.
He took one look at my face.
“What happened?”
I told him.
His expression changed.
“We're going to cooperate.”
“I know.”
“We're also going to document everything.”
Karen arrived with another investigator.
She was calm.
She inspected the hotel room.
She asked questions.
Who fed Noah?
Who changed him?
Who made decisions regarding his care?
What support system did I have?
I answered every question.
Then she asked:
“Why were you walking home carrying your child and groceries?”
I told her.
Her expression shifted slightly.
“Your mother-in-law took your vehicle?”
“Yes.”
“Without your permission?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have proof?”
Dad immediately produced copies of the banking records, texts, and the sheriff's report.
Karen studied them.
Ethan added quietly, “I can confirm she has always been Noah's primary caregiver.”
Karen looked at him.
“Then why did the report say otherwise?”
He swallowed.
“I don't know.”
The second investigator asked, “Are you living with your parents?”
“No.”
“We were,” I said. “Until last night.”
“Do you intend to return?”
“No.”
Karen nodded.
She didn't accuse me.
She didn't reassure me either.
That uncertainty was almost worse.
Before leaving, she said:
“We have to take every allegation seriously.”
“I understand.”
“And you should know that false reports can have consequences.”
I looked at her.
“You believe this was false?”
“I believe you have documentation that raises serious questions.”
After she left, Ethan sat down.
“I know who did it.”
I stared at him.
“Who?”
“My mother.”
“Why?”
“To scare us.”
Dad shook his head.
“No.”
Ethan looked at him.
“This is bigger than intimidation.”
Dad placed the bank records on the table.
“She wants a custody leverage point.”
My throat tightened.
“She wants Noah.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
“No.”
Dad looked at him.
“Then prove otherwise.”
Ethan looked at me.
“How?”
“Tell the truth.”
His face hardened.
“I have.”
“No,” I said. “You have told me pieces.”
He stood.
“Fine.”
He pulled out his phone.
“I have something.”
He opened an old email account.
A message was dated three months earlier.
From Diane.
The subject line:
When You Finally Understand What Your Wife Is Doing.
I stared.
Ethan opened it.
The message accused me of trying to isolate him from his family.
It said I was destroying his relationship with his parents.
It threatened that if he left their house, Diane would "make sure no one believed Camila was stable enough to raise Noah."
My hands went cold.
“Why didn't you show me this?”
“Because I thought it was an empty threat.”
“You thought?”
“I was wrong.”
Dad turned away.
“I need air.”
He stepped into the hallway.
Ethan looked at me.
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
“I thought if I kept Mom calm, we'd get out.”
“You let her think she had control.”
“I know.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“I needed my husband.”
He looked shattered.
“I know.”
Then someone knocked.
Not the hotel staff.
A woman stood outside.
Leah.
Her face was terrified.
“I found something.”
She entered.
“What?”
She placed a phone on the table.
“It belonged to an employee who disappeared from the company records.”
“Disappeared?”
“She quit.”
“Who?”
Leah swallowed.
“Your husband's older brother.”
I stared.
“My husband has a brother?”
Ethan went pale.
“What did you just say?”
Leah looked confused.
“Daniel Harrison.”
Ethan's face changed.
I looked at him.
“You told me you were an only child.”
He couldn't speak.
Dad returned from the hallway.
He saw our faces.
“What happened?”
I turned toward Ethan.
“You have a brother.”
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Why did you lie about that?”
“Because he has been in prison.”
Silence.
“For what?”
Ethan looked at Leah.
“She wasn't supposed to find that.”
My heart pounded.
Dad stepped closer.
“Find what?”
Leah unlocked the phone.
There was one video.
Dated five days earlier.
It showed Daniel sitting in a parked car.
He looked directly into the camera.
And said:
“Ethan, if you're watching this, Mom finally ran out of places to hide the money.”
Then the screen went black.
A second video loaded automatically.
This time Daniel was speaking to someone beside him.
Someone whose face remained outside the frame.
But the voice was unmistakable.
Diane.
She said:
“Once Camila signs, everything belongs to us.”
The recording ended.
I looked at Ethan.
“You knew.”
He shook his head.
“I knew Daniel existed.”
“And you knew he was involved?”
“No.”
Then his phone rang.
A blocked number.
He answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a man's voice said:
May you like
“Tell Camila the next document will be real.”
The call ended.
