Chapter 7 – The Journal
The Carter mansion had never felt so empty.
The grand foyer, once filled with laughter during holiday parties and charity galas, echoed with nothing but Ethan's footsteps. Every room reminded him of Emily—the piano she rarely played, the books she left half-finished, the nursery they had spent months decorating together.
He walked upstairs without a destination.
Somehow, he found himself standing outside the nursery.
The white crib was already assembled.
A small blue blanket Emily's grandmother had knitted lay folded inside. Above it hung a wooden mobile of tiny clouds and stars that Ethan had spent nearly three frustrating hours putting together.
He reached out and set it spinning.
The stars turned slowly.
There would never be a baby lying beneath them.
A sharp pain settled in his chest.
Unable to stay, he turned to leave when something caught his eye.
One of the floorboards near the rocking chair was slightly raised.
Emily had mentioned months ago that the old house had loose boards, but he had never paid attention.
He knelt and carefully lifted it.
Inside was a small leather journal tied with a faded blue ribbon.
His hands trembled as he opened the first page.
If you're reading this, something has gone terribly wrong.
Ethan's heart skipped a beat.
The next pages were dated.
Each entry described another encounter with Margaret.
January 12.
She smiled at me in front of the guests. The moment they left, she told me I'd never be good enough for her son.
February 3.
She said she hoped the baby would inherit Ethan's intelligence instead of mine.
March 18.
She threatened to cut me out of every family event unless I "learned my place."
The entries continued for months.
Every insult.
Every humiliation.
Every cruel remark Emily had hidden behind polite smiles.
Near the back of the journal, one sentence was underlined three times.
If anything ever happens to me, don't let anyone say it was an accident. Margaret has been telling me for weeks that one day I'll disappear from Ethan's life.
Ethan closed the journal, tears blurring the words.
He had believed Emily whenever she said she was "fine."
Now he realized she had been protecting him from the truth.
As he wiped his eyes, his phone rang.
It was Detective Monroe.
"Mr. Carter," she said, "we've just received a warrant to search your mother's office."
May you like
She paused.
"I have a feeling we're about to uncover much more than a single shove."
