Chapter 2 - The Marriage Derek Had Slowly Made Smaller
By the time the ambulance reached Atrium’s maternity entrance in Charlotte, Hannah’s contractions were less than three minutes apart.
A nurse noticed the mark on her cheek before Hannah explained anything.
“What happened?”
Hannah almost gave the answer she had rehearsed for smaller bruises.
Cabinet door.
Tripped in the bathroom.
Dropped something.
Instead she said, “My husband hit me.”
The words sounded enormous.
The nurse didn’t gasp.
She didn’t interrogate her.
She simply closed the exam-room door and asked, “Do you feel safe with him here?”
“No.”
Derek’s name was removed from Hannah’s approved visitor list.
Hospital security was notified.
A social worker came upstairs.
Only after those things were handled did Hannah call her father.
Thomas Pierce answered before the second ring.
“Hannah?”
She hadn’t heard his voice in almost seven weeks.
Her throat tightened.
“Dad.”
“Honey, where are you?”
“The hospital.”
A pause.
“Is the baby coming?”
“Yes.”
Another contraction started.
Hannah breathed until it eased.
Then she said, “Derek hit me.”
The silence on the other end changed.
Thomas had spent thirty-five years running Pierce Custom Homes, a midsize residential construction company outside Charlotte. He was sixty-two, broad-shouldered, stubborn and usually incapable of hiding anger.
But when he answered, his voice was almost unnaturally controlled.
“Is he there?”
“No.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“I’m coming.”
Hannah closed her eyes.
Then she remembered Derek’s expression in the foyer.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Why is Derek afraid of you?”
Thomas didn’t answer immediately.
That was the first wrong thing.
“Dad?”
“We’ll talk when I get there.”
“No.”
Hannah opened her eyes.
For months Derek had told her that her father had become hostile toward him because Thomas couldn’t accept that Hannah had chosen her marriage over the family business.
According to Derek, Thomas resented that Derek had left Pierce Custom Homes six months earlier.
According to Derek, Thomas had called him unreliable.
Ungrateful.
A parasite.
The fights became so ugly that Hannah finally stopped taking her father’s calls.
At least, that was what she believed she had done.
Now Thomas sounded as though he had been waiting for a question Hannah had never known to ask.
“Tell me now.”
“Hannah, you’re in labor.”
“Exactly.”
Another contraction seized her.
She gripped the bedrail until it passed.
“I am done having men decide what I can handle.”
Thomas went quiet.
Then he said something that made Hannah forget the pain for one second.
“I haven’t been able to reach you.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“I’ve called. I’ve texted. I’ve driven to your house twice.”
“No, you haven’t.”
“Hannah—”
“I blocked you.”
Thomas’s breathing changed.
“Honey, I’m not blocked.”
Hannah stared at the wall.
Her father continued carefully.
“Your number has been answering me for two months.”
Cold moved through her body.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ve been getting messages from you.”
May you like
Hannah stopped breathing.
“I haven’t sent you anything.”
