Chapter 2
I didn’t say a word to them.
I just turned back to Emily.
Wrapped the blanket tighter around her.
Lifted her into my arms like she was five years old again.
And carried her out of that room.
Past the three of them.
I felt their eyes burning into my back.
I didn’t care.
I got Emily to my car.
Got her buckled in.
Drove her straight to my house on the edge of post.
The house I’d bought after my divorce.
The safe place.
I carried her inside.
Got her into my bed.
Sat beside her.
Held her hand until she finally fell asleep.
Her face was still twisted with pain even in sleep.
I sat there for a long time.
Watching her.
The anger in my chest was a living thing.
Hot.
Heavy.
Ready to explode.
But I’d spent a career learning to control it.
Rage gets you killed.
Calm gets you results.
I got up at 4:00 AM.
Made coffee.
Sat at my kitchen table.
Pulled out my phone.
Called the only person I trusted more than myself.
Sarah Jenkins.
My former JAG officer.
Now the best family attorney in the state.
She picked up on the second ring.
“Victoria? It’s four in the morning.”
“I need you, Sarah.”
I told her everything.
The phone call.
The hospital.
The bruises.
The Prescotts and their threats.
She was quiet for a long time.
Then she sighed.
“Victoria, you know who they are. They own half the judges in this state. They’ve buried a dozen lawsuits just like this. This won’t be easy.”
“I didn’t ask if it would be easy.”
I looked through the kitchen doorway at Emily sleeping in my bed.
“I asked if you’d help me burn them to the ground.”
Sarah was quiet another second.
Then she laughed.
A sharp, dangerous sound.
“Send me everything you have. I’ll be at your house by nine.”
Emily woke up an hour later.
Pale.
Confused.
Then it all came rushing back.
She started crying.
Hard, heaving sobs that shook her whole body.
I sat on the bed and held her.
Let her cry.
When she finally calmed down, I made her eat toast.
Drink tea.
Then I asked her to tell me everything.
From the beginning.
It took three hours.
She told me how it started small.
Criticism.
Control.
Ethan telling her what to wear.
Who to see.
How to speak.
Then Margaret joined in.
Told her she wasn’t good enough.
Not pretty enough.
Not smart enough to be a Prescott.
Then the isolation.
They took her car keys.
Controlled her phone.
Listened to her calls.
Cut her off from all her friends.
From me.
Every time I’d called, Ethan had been standing right there.
Listening.
Forcing her to say everything was fine.
Then the yelling.
The shoving.
Three days ago, she’d finally told Ethan she wanted a divorce.
That’s when they locked her in the guest house.
Brandon had grabbed her.
Thrown her inside.
Margaret had told her no one would ever believe her.
That she’d die in that house before anyone helped her.
She’d only escaped when the new housekeeper had felt sorry for her.
Sneaked her a phone.
Emily had called me from the back of an Uber.
Halfway to the hospital.
By the time she finished talking, her voice was raw.
Her eyes were red.
But for the first time since I’d gotten that call, she looked up at me.
And there was a spark of something else in her eyes.
Not just fear.
Fight.
“Mom,” she said.
Her voice was small but steady.
“I don’t want to hide anymore. I want them to pay for what they did.”
I squeezed her hand.
“They will, baby. I promise you. They will pay for every single thing.”
Sarah showed up at nine sharp.
Briefcase in hand.
Hard, determined look on her face.
We sat at my kitchen table for the next four hours.
Laid out the plan.
Step one: Get Emily to a specialized forensic nurse.
Document every injury.
Every mark.
Every bruise.
Chain of custody perfect.
Step two: Subpoena Emily’s phone records.
Text messages.
Call logs.
Even the deleted ones.
Step three: Find witnesses.
The housekeeper who’d helped her escape.
Any other staff who’d seen what happened.
Anyone who’d ever been hurt by the Prescotts before.
Sarah leaned back in her chair.
“Here’s the thing, Victoria. They’re going to fight dirty. They’ll come for you. Your career. Your reputation. They’ll try to paint Emily as crazy. You as a vengeful, power-hungry military officer using her rank to destroy an innocent family.”
I smiled.
A cold, thin smile.
“Let them try. I’ve spent thirty years fighting people who want to destroy everything I love. I’m pretty good at it.”
Sarah nodded.
“Then we go to war.”
That afternoon, I took Emily to the forensic nurse.
The whole drive, she held my hand.
Tight.
The nurse was gentle.
Kind.
She spent three hours documenting everything.
Taking photos.
Measuring bruises.
Writing down every single detail Emily told her.
When we were done, the nurse looked up at me.
Her face was grave.
“These injuries aren’t from a fall, Colonel. These are from being held down. Restrained. Hit. Multiple times over several days.”
She handed me the report.
Sealed.
Signed.
Dated.
“This will hold up in any court in the country. No matter who they know.”
I put the report in my bag.
Felt a little piece of my anger settle.
Not gone.
Just… focused.
We were driving home when Emily grabbed my arm.
“Mom. Look.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror.
A black SUV.
Tinted windows.
No license plate visible.
It had been behind us since we left the clinic.
My jaw tightened.
I knew exactly who it was.
The Prescotts.
They were watching us.
Sending a message.
They thought it would scare me.
It didn’t.
It just made me angrier.
I turned to Emily.
Squeezed her hand.
“Don’t worry, baby. They can follow us all they want. They’re not getting anywhere near you again. Not while I’m breathing.”
She nodded.
Leaned her head against my shoulder.
For the first time all day, she closed her eyes.
And slept.
I watched the SUV in the mirror.
And made myself a promise.
Whatever they threw at us.
I’d throw it back twice as hard.
They wanted a war.
May you like
They’d get one.
And I never lost.
