Chapter 6 - The Custody of Truth
The infinity pool fell dead silent as the metallic click of handcuffs echoed across the luxury deck. Resort guests stared in hushed shock as Brandon was forcefully hauled to his feet.
“You can’t do this!” Brandon shouted, his voice cracking with desperation. He thrashed against the detectives’ grip, his sunburned face turning a violent shade of crimson. “I left him food! I left him money! He’s eight years old, he knows how to use a microwave! Laura, tell them to stop!”
“I saw the camera logs, Brandon,” I said softly, stepping closer so only he could hear. “I know you watched him cry from starvation. I know you laughed.”
His eyes widened in sheer terror as he realized the depth of his exposure. There was no spinning this. There were no excuses left to drape over the red flags.
“Dad?”
I turned to see Lucas and Alyssa shivering at the edge of the pool, their eyes wide with fear as they watched their father being marched away by the police. My heart ached for them. They were innocent bystanders in their father’s sociopathic game.
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A female social worker, whom the police had brought along, gently approached the children, wrapping them in warm towels. “Your stepmom is going to sit with you while we call your mom to come pick you up,” she told them softly.
I spent the next two hours in a quiet hotel conference room, answering the children's frantic questions with as much grace as I could muster without lying. I didn't vilify their father to them—the justice system was about to do that publicly. When their biological mother finally rushed through the doors in tears, sweeping them into her arms, I quietly slipped out of the room. My chapter with them was over. It was time to go back to the only child who truly needed me.
