Chapter 4 - The Threat in the Night
Two days after we retrieved the binder from The Hearth, Damian realized the walls were closing in around him.
He didn't go quietly. Bullies like Damian never do when they realize their victims have slipped out of their grip.
It was a rainy Thursday evening. Chloe was sitting at my dining table, working on a sketchpad for the first time in nearly a year. Her hands were still slightly hesitant, but the sharp, brilliant lines of her signature art style were slowly beginning to flow again. I was in the kitchen preparing roasted chicken and vegetables—a proper, nourishing meal.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed on the counter. It was an unknown number.
I answered and put it on speaker.
"Margaret," Damian’s voice sneered through the speaker, low, quiet, and dripping with hatred. "I hope you're enjoying your little legal game."
"Damian," I said, keeping my voice as calm as I used to when handling an unruly child in my classroom. "You are violating a temporary protective order. This call is being recorded."
He laughed—a harsh, barking sound. "Go ahead and record it! Do you really think a retired schoolteacher and a washed-up lawyer can destroy me? I have connections in this city, Margaret. I know judges. I know politicians. If Chloe doesn't drop these absurd claims and return to work by Monday morning, I will make sure she never gets a graphic design contract in this state again. I will sue her until she doesn't have a single penny left to buy a crust of bread!"
Chloe froze at the table, her pencil hovering over the paper, her breath catching in her throat.
I stepped closer to the phone, leaning down until my mouth was inches from the microphone.
"Listen to me very carefully, Damian," I said, every word dropping like a lead weight. "For thirty years, I taught seven-year-olds how to behave. I know exactly what you are. You are a weak, cowardly little boy who hides behind expensive suits and loud words. You starved my daughter. You bruised her body. You tried to steal her dignity. But you forgot one thing: she is my daughter. And I will burn your precious restaurant to the ground with legal fire before I let you touch her again."
"You old bitch—"
"Have a good night, Damian," I cut him off and hung up the phone.
I immediately forwarded the audio recording to Robert Vance and Detective Sarah Morales of the Fulton County Police Department, whom Robert had brought onto the case to investigate the forged signature on the $250,000 bank loan.
An hour later, Detective Morales called me back.
"Mrs. Miller," Detective Morales said crisply. "We just reviewed the audio recording, combined with the forensic signature analysis on the bank loan documents your attorney provided. The signature on the $250,000 mortgage application is a confirmed forgery. Combined with the TPO violation tonight, we have sufficient grounds for an arrest warrant."
I looked over at Chloe. She had stopped sketching and was watching me with wide, tear-filled eyes.
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"Is it over, Mom?" she whispered.
"No, sweetheart," I said, walking over and wrapping my arms around her shoulders. "It's not over yet. But the trap is set. And he just walked right into it."
