I could hear her go upstairs, her footsteps frantic. Rhea stirred on the baby monitor.
I looked back at Melissa. “Do you really think this is going to work?”
Her expression didn’t change.
“I don’t care what you think. I know the law is on my side. I’ve talked to someone.”
She didn’t say who, but it was clear someone had gotten to her — maybe a friend, a lawyer, or a relative who smelled money.
But what Melissa didn’t know — and what I didn’t plan on telling her — was that our home security system recorded both video and audio.
The entire conversation was being captured.
I’d also reached into my pocket and casually tapped the record button on my phone, just in case. I set it on the coffee table without drawing attention.
“You’re saying,” I began, keeping my tone level, “that you’re going to reclaim your legal rights to Rhea unless we pay you in cash.”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“And if we don’t?” I asked.
“I file the paperwork and take her back,” she said.
“You know I can.”
I nodded again and leaned forward. “Thanks for being honest. But we need time to talk.”
Melissa stood up and dusted her hands off, as if she had finished a job.
“Don’t take too long. I want an answer by the end of the week.”
I walked her to the door without saying another word. As she stepped off the porch, she turned and looked back at the house.
There was something in her expression I couldn’t quite name — not remorse, not guilt — just calculation.
The door clicked shut behind her, and I locked it.
When I turned around, Megan was standing at the top of the stairs, clutching the baby monitor. She looked as if she were made of glass.
“She’s trying to sell our baby,” she said, barely above a whisper.
“I know,” I said, walking up to her. “And now we have proof.”
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