Chapter 2: The Hush Money
Chapter 2: The Hush Money
The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor in the ER trauma bay was the only thing keeping me grounded. Sophie was sleeping, the heavy dose of painkillers pulling her under. She had twenty-two stitches, a severe concussion, and a hairline fracture along her orbital bone. The pediatric neurosurgeon said it was a miracle the impact hadn't caused a brain bleed.
A heavy knock on the sliding glass door snapped my attention away from my daughter’s pale, bruised face.
It was my father. He slipped into the room, looking utterly out of place in his tailored tuxedo amidst the sterile medical equipment. He didn't look at Sophie. He didn't ask how she was. Instead, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a sleek, leather checkbook.
"The police didn't arrest him," Richard said quietly, uncapping a gold fountain pen. "Not yet. I made a few calls. They're waiting to review the footage and take your statement. Preston is at the hotel with Madison. The reception was ruined, of course. Madison is inconsolable."
I stared at him, my jaw tight. "Your granddaughter has a fractured skull."
"And Preston's entire life is on the line," my father countered smoothly, refusing to meet my eyes. "He's about to close a massive venture capital deal. A felony assault charge will destroy him, Evelyn. It will destroy the family name."
He clicked his pen. "I’m writing a check for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. It’s enough to pay for Sophie’s medical bills, buy that house in the suburbs you’ve been wanting, and put away a solid college fund for her."
He tore the check from the ledger and held it out to me. The paper fluttered slightly beneath the fluorescent lights.
"All you have to do," Richard continued, "is tell the police that Preston tripped. That he was angry about the phone, he swung the board in frustration at an empty chair, and the board slipped from his hands and hit Sophie by accident. Reckless endangerment at worst. A misdemeanor. I'll have the charges quietly expunged in a year."
I looked at the check. A quarter of a million dollars. For thirty years, they had controlled me with scraps of affection and financial leverage. They thought I was the same broken, compliant girl I had always been.
I reached out and took the check.
My father let out a long sigh of relief, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Smart girl, Evie. I knew you'd see reason."
I looked him dead in the eye, gripped the edges of the heavy paper, and ripped it in half. Then in quarters. I let the pieces fall to the linoleum floor like confetti.
"Tell Preston to get a good lawyer," I said, my voice like ice. "Because I'm going to bury him."
My father’s face morphed into a mask of pure rage. "You will lose everything," he snarled.
"Get out of my daughter's room before I start screaming and have hospital security drag you out," I replied.
May you like
He turned on his heel and stormed out. Five minutes later, Detective Sarah Miller walked in, holding a digital tablet.
"Mrs. Bennett?" she asked gently. "I'm the lead investigator. We just pulled the footage from the Whitmore Hotel. I think you need to see this."
