Chapter 10
An unknown number lit up at midday. I went to reject it—out of habit. But my finger hit accept on its own.
"Hello?"
Silence. Then—a thin, trembling: "Mama?"
Mia.
My heart leapt into my throat.
"Mia! Sweetheart, it's Mama, Mama's here—"
"Mama, come." She sniffled. "I want you."
"And where's Noah? Give me Noah, give him to me—"
Mia's voice drifted off—she was somewhere calling her brother—and at once a stranger's palm covered the mic.
The phone was taken.
"Hear that?" Dominic. Calm, pleased with himself. "They've been crying for you for three days. Want to see them—come. To my mother's. Today."
"Give them to me. Let me talk to them more."
"Alone," he said, as if he hadn't heard. "Without Carol. You leave the phone with her. Show up with it or with her—you turn around at the door and never see them again. Clear?"
"Dominic, wait—"
"I'll wait till eight."
The dial tone.
Eight. I had four hours to decide. I decided in four seconds—the moment I heard that Mama, come again in my head.
Carol flew out of the kitchen at the sound of my voice.
"Who was that? You've gone white."
"Him. The kids are at his mother's. Mia was crying into the phone, asking for me."
"It's a trap." Carol said it at once, no pause. "You know it yourself. 'Alone, no phone'—that's not a visit. It's a snare."
"I know."
"Then don't you dare go there."
"They're my children." I was already lifting my coat off the hook. "Mia was crying, Carol. You should have heard that voice."
"I hear another voice. His. He's not calling you there to show you the kids."
"I'm going anyway."
"Leah!"
"And what if it's true?" I turned to her. "What if they're there crying, waiting, and I didn't come? How do I live with that afterward?"
She looked at me, and I saw: she knew she couldn't stop me.
"You'll go even if I lie down across the threshold," she said. "Because you're a mother. Fine. Then listen to me very carefully."
"At least hide the phone," she said. "In your boot, your bra, anywhere."
"He'll check. He'll find it—and drive off with the kids, and that's that."
"Then I'm coming with you. I'll park near the house, you won't see me, but I'll see you."
"He spots a tail—he's gone with the kids that same minute. No, Carol. I go alone. It has to be this way."
Carol grabbed me by the shoulders.
"One hour," she said hard. "You get there—signal me somehow, any way you can. No word from you in an hour—I raise everyone. Police, neighbors, the whole building."
"And one more thing." She pressed a folded slip of paper into my pocket. "My number and the non-emergency line. Hide it in your bra—he won't go there. You get to any phone at all—call. One ring, a whisper, I'll understand."
I nodded and tucked the paper under the waistband of my jeans.
"One hour," I repeated. And I left, leaving the phone on her table.
My mother-in-law's door opened before I knocked. She'd been waiting.
"Come in," she said, not meeting my eyes. "Take your shoes off."
"Where are the kids?"
"Upstairs. Getting ready for bed."
I stepped inside—and behind me the lock clicked. Out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel, he came, unhurried.
"Phone," Dominic said, holding out his palm. "We had a deal."
"Kids first."
"The phone, Leah."
I didn't move. So he stepped up, yanked the bag off my shoulder—I clutched at it, but he was stronger—patted down the pockets, confirmed there was no phone, and tossed the bag onto the console.
"Good girl for leaving it. Learned something at least."
"The money, by the way, you'll be returning," he added, matter-of-fact. "All of it, to the penny. Consider that condition one."
"I won't."
"You will." He didn't even raise his voice. "You've got nowhere to hurry to now."
"You lured me here with Mia's voice," I said. "Was she really crying—or did you set that up too?"
"What's the difference." He shrugged. "You came, didn't you."
That was him, entire: it didn't matter whether his daughter's tears were real—as long as they worked on me.
"You said the kids want to see me."
"And I wasn't lying. They do." He smiled. "So you'll stay here. With them. Like a normal mother with her kids. Come to your senses—and you'll see them every day."
"You won't lock me up."
"I'm not locking anyone up." He spread his hands. "You came on your own. My mother saw it, the neighbor saw it through the window. The wife came back to her family. Who's going to believe otherwise—with stolen money in her bag and a psych hold I'll have arranged for her in no time?"
From upstairs came a sleepy, wary:
"Mom? Is that really Mom?"
Noah.
He appeared on the stairs—barefoot, in pajamas, hair mussed, his eyes sleepy and, for some reason, mistrustful. And he didn't run to me the way he always did. He stopped on the top step, gripping the railing.
"Mom? Why did you leave?"
The word hit harder than any slap.
"I didn't leave, baby. Listen to me—"
"Dad said you left us. And took the money."
"Noah, that's not true, listen—"
"All right, enough." Dominic stepped between us, turned his son by the shoulders, and nudged him back up. "Bed. You'll talk tomorrow. Your mother's tired from the road."
"Noah!" I called after him. "I love you, you hear me? I came for you!"
The door upstairs slammed.
"See?" Dominic turned to me, satisfied. "They already know what kind of mother they've got. I made sure of it."
"You're turning the kids against me."
"I'm telling them the truth. Mother ran off, robbed their father—didn't she?" He smirked. "Want them to think otherwise—behave the way you should. Live here. Keep quiet. And maybe I'll let you be a good mommy."
"Don't push him, Leah," my mother-in-law said quietly from the corner. "Do as he says—and it'll all settle down."
"You're in this together. Against me. Against your own grandchildren."
"We're for the family," she answered. "And what are you for?"
I made a move toward the stairs.
"Where." Dominic caught me by the elbow, wrenched me back. "It's night. Don't wake them. Tomorrow you'll get your fill of them."
"Let go. I want to see my son."
"In the morning." He didn't let go. "Be quiet—you get the kids. Act up—in the morning I put them in the car and drive off, and you can go whistle for them. Got the picture?"
"Stay a while, Leah," my mother-in-law put in. "Cool off. It'll be calmer for everyone that way."
They took me to a back room—his old childhood bedroom. A bed, a window, bare walls.
"You shouldn't be like this," my mother-in-law said, pulling the door to. "He loves you, in his own way. All men are like that. He'll burn it out."
"He's holding me under lock and key. You see it—and you say nothing."
"I don't see anything," she said, looking away. "You came to us on your own."
The door closed. And the key turned from the outside.
I was alone. Pregnant, no phone, behind a locked door—ten steps from my children and farther from them than I'd ever been.
I tried the handle. Knocked—once, twice. Quietly, so as not to scare the kids, and yet:
"Dominic. Open up. This isn't funny."
No answer. Only his footsteps receding down the hall, and somewhere a TV came on—loud, deliberately loud.
After a while the phone rang somewhere in the house. I pressed my ear to the door.
"Hello?" My mother-in-law. "Ah, it's you... No, no, everything's fine here. Leah came to her senses, came back to the family. Made up. Don't call again, don't trouble us—everything's worked out."
Carol. That was Carol. So the hour was up.
I hammered on the door with my fists:
"Carol! Carol, I'm here! Don't believe her! He locked me in! The police!"
"...it's just the TV, yes," my mother-in-law said, raising her voice, drowning me out. "Nothing's happened. All the best to you."
Dial tone. Footsteps. Silence.
The hour had passed—and everyone outside had been told I'd come back to the family on my own.
I went to the window. Second floor, a dark blind courtyard. No jumping—not with the belly, not now. I tried the frame: sealed for winter, painted shut. He'd thought of everything.
I slid down to the floor by the door, pressed a hand to my belly. Behind the wall, very close, the kids were stirring—I could hear Mia's whimper, Noah's quiet "will Mama come tomorrow?" So close. And so far.
My belly pulled—dull, familiar. I breathed slowly, the way I'd been taught. Not now. Only not now, not here.
"You hear me?" I whispered to the one inside me. "Hold on. You and me just have to hold on."
I barely slept that night.
In the morning the lock rasped. My mother-in-law brought in a bowl of oatmeal, set it on the nightstand, not looking at me.
"Eat. You can't go hungry in your condition."
"Where are the kids? You promised—in the morning."
"Dominic's at work. He'll be back—he'll decide."
"They're my children. Not his. And not yours."
"They're his too." She pursed her lips. "Eat and don't make noise. I don't need the neighbors."
I caught her by the sleeve.
"You're a mother. He beat me. I nearly lost the baby. And you're helping keep me locked up."
For a second something in her face flinched—and instantly froze over.
"I used to think he'd burn it out of himself too," she said suddenly, quietly, looking away. "Eat your oatmeal."
And that "too" of hers she said in a way that told me: she knew. She'd always known. And still chose her son.
"And if it were your daughter being held like this?" I asked at her back.
She didn't answer. But she lingered at the door an extra second—I noticed.
"No one's holding you. The door's locked so you don't do anything foolish. You need rest." She freed her sleeve and stepped toward the door.
"At least give me a phone," I called after her. "To call my friend, she's going out of her mind."
"Your friend will manage. She's already been told everything's fine here."
The door closed.
I didn't touch the oatmeal. I sat and listened to the house: footsteps, creaks, who came and went when. Learning it. This house I'd learn no worse than the one I'd walked out of with a bag. I had time—he thought it was working for him.
By day little feet padded up to the door.
"Mama?" a whisper. Mia. "Are you really in there?"
I slid down to the very crack at the floor.
"I'm here, sweetheart. Mama's here. Put your little hand on the door, you hear? Like this."
I pressed my palm to the wood. On the other side, I knew, her tiny one settled.
"Grandma said you're bad," Mia whispered. "And that I'm not allowed to talk to you."
"I'm not bad, baby. I love you so much. Soon we'll go away together—you, Noah, and me. Only it's our secret, okay?"
"Secret," she echoed.
"And Noah?" I whispered. "Is he there?"
"He's mad at you," Mia whispered. "He won't talk."
That cut deeper than the lock. But I knew: Noah wasn't angry. Noah was afraid and didn't understand. And I would get through to him—to both of them.
"Mia!" came my mother-in-law's call. The little feet padded away.
That evening Dominic came back. He unlocked the door, took in the untouched oatmeal.
"Hunger strike? Your business. You'll hurt the baby—not me."
"Let me be with the kids. Just be with them. With you there, with anyone."
"Earn it." He crouched down across from me.
He smelled of another woman's perfume—new, not the one from the stairwell.
Number three already, it flashed through me.
"Give the money back, sign that you're leaving with no claims—and you can live here with the kids.
Refuse—you'll sit in here. I've got no reason to hurry, and you've got a baby to have. "
"You're not human."
"I'm your husband. And the father of your children." He stood. "Get used to it."
"At least pity the kids," I said at his back. "They need their mother."
"They'll have a mother," he tossed from the door. "I'll find a sweeter one."
The door was locked again from the outside.
I'd already walked out of his house once. At night, through my own blood, on all fours—but I walked out. And this door I'd open too. Not today, then tomorrow. Not by force, then by cunning.
Only this time I wouldn't walk out alone.
I felt for the folded slip of paper at my waist—Carol's number. He'd taken the phone, taken the bag, locked the door. But about this scrap of paper he didn't know. And he didn't know that his own daughter had just pressed her little palm to the door on my side.
I had time until the birth. I had a hidden number. I had a mother-in-law whose face had flinched. And I had two children behind a wall—and for them I was going to become more patient, more cunning, and more ruthless than he could imagine.
He thought he'd caught me with the kids.
He hadn't understood the main thing: you can't cage me with my children. With my children you only can't stop me.