Chapter 9 - The Choice
As the deputies hauled Patricia toward the door, she finally dropped every shred of her aristocratic facade. She kicked, screamed, and spat like a rabid animal, her expensive jewelry clinking against the steel cuffs.
"You ungrateful little gutter rat!" she shrieked at me, thrashing in the officers' grip. "You think you won? You’re nothing! You’ll never be Laura! Daniel will always despise you! You took everything from me! You took my son! You took my granddaughter! I hope you burn in hell!"
Deputy Miller shoved her firmly through the doorway, his partner pulling the heavy double doors shut, cutting off the venomous screeching.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Case worker Sarah Jenkins closed her file, looking across the table at me with profound sympathy. "Mrs. Sterling... Clara. Given the video evidence and the immediate arrest of the suspect, there is no question regarding Sophie’s physical safety under your care. Child Protective Services will not be removing Sophie. However, regarding the domestic assault between you and your husband..."
Daniel raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot, swollen, his face stained with tears.
"Deputy," Daniel said, his voice raw and gravelly. "Arrest me."
Deputy Miller paused near the door, turning around. "Excuse me?"
Daniel stood up slowly. He looked smaller, his shoulders slumped, all the arrogant pride stripped away. He held out his wrists toward the deputy.
"I hit my wife," Daniel said, his voice steady despite the tears streaming down his face. "I hit her without asking a single question. I committed assault in front of my daughter. Put the handcuffs on me. I belong in that cell right next to my mother."
I looked at him, my heart clenching with an agonizing mixture of grief and pity. For years, Daniel had lived in the prison of Patricia’s toxic manipulation. But the hand that struck me had been his own.
"Deputy," I said softly, stroking Sophie’s hair as she slept against my chest. "I am not pressing domestic violence charges tonight."
Daniel’s head snapped toward me, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Clara... why? I hit you. I deserve to be locked up."
"Because I won't let our daughter watch both of her parents leave in police cars on the same night," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "And because going to jail is too easy for you, Daniel. A night in a cell gives you a neat little punishment to absolve your guilt. You want to suffer? You want to atone?"
I stood up, adjusting Sophie in my arms. Her little head rested peacefully on my shoulder.
"You are going to live with what you did," I told him, each word deliberate, cold, and final. "You are going to look in the mirror every single morning and remember that your first instinct when your daughter was drowning was to strike the woman who loved you. You are going to sign the divorce papers without contesting a single clause. You are going to sign over full physical and legal custody of Sophie to me. And then you are going to spend the rest of your life figuring out what kind of a man you actually are."
Daniel collapsed back into his chair, covering his face, weeping so hard he couldn't breathe.
"Sarah," I said to the case worker. "Can you help me arrange an escort to the private car waiting outside?"
"Of course, Clara," Sarah said gently, rising to gather her paperwork. "Right this way."
I walked toward the exit. As I reached the door, Daniel’s broken voice drifted across the room one last time.
"Clara..." he choked out. "Will I ever see her again? Will I ever see my little girl?"
I stopped. I didn't turn around.
"That depends entirely on whether you become a father, Daniel... or remain Patricia’s son."
May you like
I walked out into the cool mountain night.
***
