PART 2

At Charlotte Medical Center, the doctor didn’t waste time.

“If your wife and daughter had remained outside another hour,” he said, “we’d be having a very different conversation.”

I sat beside Emily’s hospital bed.

She was covered in warming blankets.

An IV ran into her arm.

A bruise marked her wrist.

Sophie slept inside a heated bassinet, her cheeks slowly regaining color.

“Tell me everything,” I said.

Emily swallowed.

“Three weeks after Sophie was born, your mother moved in.”

My jaw tightened.

“Then your father started bringing company files into the house. They went through your mail. Your office records. Your laptop backups.”