Chapter 2 - MY FAMILY CHOSE A VILLAIN
By six that evening, Chloe was awake.
Daniel was not.
The emergency physician told me they had both suffered carbon monoxide exposure. Chloe’s smaller body had reacted faster, which may have saved her. She had called me before losing consciousness, and opening the front door when I arrived had allowed fresh air into the house.
Daniel had absorbed more.
He had also swallowed a prescription sedative.
“It was in his coffee,” the doctor explained. “We’re waiting on a complete toxicology report.”
My mother sat beside me in the hospital consultation room, gripping a paper cup with both hands. She wore cream slacks and a soft blue cardigan, the same kind of outfit she wore to church committee meetings and school fundraisers.
Eric paced near the window.
At thirty-four, my brother still carried himself like the high school quarterback he had once been—broad shoulders, restless confidence, anger arriving whenever charm failed.
“So Daniel drugged himself?” he asked.
The doctor’s expression tightened. “I didn’t say that.”
“But that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“I’m describing what we found.”
Eric looked at me. “Meg, you know he’s been acting strange.”
My mother lowered her eyes.
I turned toward her. “What does that mean?”
She touched my wrist. “Honey, we didn’t want to upset you.”
“About what?”
Eric stopped pacing.
“Daniel came to the family store last week. He accused Mom and me of stealing.”
The words landed hard enough to silence the room.
My father had founded Ellis Home Supply in Akron forty years earlier. After he died, my mother took control of the company, and Eric became operations manager. I had chosen a different career and worked in finance for a regional medical network.
Daniel had never shown interest in the store.
“Stealing what?” I asked.
“Money,” Eric said. “He claimed Dad left some secret trust for Chloe.”
My mother’s face folded into grief.
“Your husband was confused, Megan. He said Frank had promised him documents before he died. When I asked to see them, Daniel became aggressive.”
“That doesn’t sound like Daniel.”
“You weren’t there.”
The door opened before I could respond.
Officer Reed entered with a detective named Lena Morales. She wore a charcoal suit and carried a thin folder.
“We need to ask Mrs. Carter a few questions.”
Eric folded his arms. “Are you treating Daniel as a suspect?”
Detective Morales looked directly at him. “We are treating the house as a crime scene.”
My mother began to cry.
Not loudly. Evelyn Ellis never cried loudly. She let tears collect in her eyes until someone else felt cruel for continuing the conversation.
“I knew something was wrong,” she said. “I told Megan that Daniel seemed under pressure.”
“You never told me that,” I said.
“I was trying to protect your marriage.”
Eric exhaled sharply. “Come on, Meg. His mug was on the floor. His key was in the garage. The generator came from his workshop. Maybe Chloe walked in before he expected her.”
I stood so quickly my chair scraped backward.
“Don’t you dare.”
“I’m trying to help you face what happened.”
“My daughter nearly died.”
“And maybe your husband caused it.”
The consultation-room door was still open. Two nurses looked toward us. A family in the hallway went silent.
Eric had not simply accused Daniel. He had done it publicly, in the hospital where Daniel was fighting to wake up.
My mother stood and placed herself between us.
“Stop this. Both of you.”
“No,” I said. “He doesn’t get to say that and hide behind you.”
Eric’s face hardened. “You always defend Daniel. Even when he lies to you.”
“What lies?”
He pulled out his phone and opened a photograph.
It showed Daniel leaving a downtown office building beside a dark-haired woman. The date stamp was from three weeks earlier.
“I followed him,” Eric said. “He met her four times. He also opened a bank account you don’t know about.”
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
Daniel and I shared everything—or I believed we did. Our mortgage. Retirement accounts. Chloe’s college fund. Even the embarrassing credit-card balance from the year we replaced the roof.
Detective Morales watched my reaction carefully.
“What office building is that?” I asked.
Eric gave a humorless laugh. “Ask your husband. Assuming he wakes up.”
I slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
My mother gasped. Eric’s cheek reddened beneath my palm print.
I had never hit anyone in my life.
He stared at me, more shocked than hurt.
Then my mother said the words I would remember long after the hospital walls stopped smelling like disinfectant.
“You need to prepare yourself, Megan. Daniel may not be the man you married.”
I looked at the woman who had taught me to ride a bike, stayed beside my bed through childhood pneumonia, and sewn Chloe’s first Halloween costume by hand.
Something in her voice felt rehearsed.
Detective Morales stepped closer.
“Mrs. Carter, did your husband have a security camera in the garage?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.”
She opened her folder.
“We found mounting screws above the workbench and a cut power cable. Someone removed a camera today.”
Eric’s eyes shifted toward my mother.
It happened quickly.
He looked away before anyone else seemed to notice.
But I saw it.
May you like
And suddenly the question was no longer whether Daniel had hidden something from me.
It was why my brother looked afraid of our mother.
