Part 1 of 2
I was holding my newborn daughter when Uncle Ray saw the faded, yellowish-purple handprints blooming like dark petals across my throat.
The hospital room went so profoundly quiet that I could hear my baby’s tiny, fragile breath catching against the starchy fabric of my gown. The rhythmic, electronic hum of the heart monitor next to my bed seemed to amplify, beating out a countdown to a detonation only I knew was coming.
My husband, Derek, didn’t even possess the grace to look ashamed.
He leaned back in the vinyl visitor chair in the corner of the recovery room, crossing one ankle over his knee. The fluorescent lights overhead caught the heavy, polished gold of his Rolex—a gift from his father for winning a high-profile corporate merger last quarter. His father, Arthur Vale, stood right beside him. Arthur looked exactly like a marble statue situated in front of a courthouse: broad-shouldered, silver-haired, immaculate in a tailored charcoal suit, and entirely brutal.
“Don’t make that face, Ray,” Derek drawled, his voice thick with the lazy arrogance of a man who had never been told ‘no’ in his entire life. “She got hysterical during an argument last week. Her hormones have been all over the place. I had to restrain her for her own safety.”
My uncle’s eyes moved with agonizing slowness from my bruised neck to my shaking hands, which were currently curled protectively around my daughter’s swaddled body. Ray didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.
Derek smiled wider, a sharp, white flash of teeth. “Just showing her who the boss of this new family is. Boundaries are important, especially now.”
My stomach turned to solid ice.
Only six hours earlier, I had delivered Lily after nineteen agonizing, mind-numbing hours of labor. Throughout the entire ordeal, Derek had sat in the corner, loudly complaining to the nurses about the poor quality of the hospital coffee and taking business calls. When Lily finally arrived, crying and perfect, Arthur had briefly glanced at my exhausted, sweat-soaked face, looked down at his new granddaughter, and said to Derek, “Well, at least she has our nose. The bloodline holds.”
Then, when the nurses briefly stepped out to fetch fresh linens, Derek had leaned over my bed. The smell of his expensive peppermint breath mints and heavy cologne had nauseated me. He gripped the metal bedrail, leaned in so close his lips brushed my ear, and whispered the reality of my new existence.
“The house is mine. The offshore accounts are mine. The child is a Vale. She is mine. You are going to sign the post-nuptial amendments tomorrow morning, or I will have you committed for postpartum psychosis before the week is out. You will learn obedience, Maya. Finally.”
When I quietly told him my Uncle Ray was coming to visit, Derek had simply laughed.
“The deaf old mechanic?” he had sneered, adjusting his silk tie. “Good. Let him come. Let the old man watch how real men handle their assets.”