Chapter 2: The Laugh
Michael called at 7:14 in the morning.
I let it ring.
He called four more times before he sent a text: *"Dad.
My key card doesn't work.
Neither does the gate code.
What's going on?"*
I set the phone face down on the kitchen table.
Ellen was still asleep upstairs.
On the sixth call, I answered.
"Dad—"
"Don't."
Silence.
"I know what happened in that corridor, Michael."
More silence.
Then his voice shifted.
Careful.
Measured.
"Whatever you think you saw—"
"I didn't think anything.
I watched it.
Twice."
He went quiet for a long moment.
"Cassandra was upset.
Things got out of hand.
Mom wasn't seriously h*rt—"
"She was on the floor, Michael.
You put her there.
Then you walked back to your reception."
"Dad, just let me explain—"
"Your car will be collected Monday.
Your office access ends at noon today.
Don't come to this house."
The line went silent.
Then I heard something I never expected.
Not an apology.
Not remorse.
He laughed.
Low and short.
Almost under his breath.
"You won't do this.
You love Mom too much to drag this out."
That was when I realized something I hadn't before.
He wasn't afraid of what he'd done to Ellen.
He was certain I would protect him from it.
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