Chapter 2 - THE DAUGHTER THEY TRIED TO SILENCE
Abigail didn't sleep that night.
Neither did I.
Every time she closed her eyes, she woke up shaking.
Every sound made her flinch.
Every door opening made her panic.
And that told me more than any medical report could.
Fear leaves evidence.
The next morning, the doctor came in.
“Mrs. Gardner?”
“Yes.”
She looked at Abigail.
Then at me.
“Your daughter has several injuries consistent with physical trauma.”
My jaw tightened.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning these injuries are not from a simple fall.”
Silence.
Nicholas arrived twenty minutes later.
Without his family.
Without an apology.
Without concern.
He brought flowers.
I almost laughed.
Because some people think appearances are more important than reality.
“Abigail.”
She turned away.
That small movement told me everything.
She was afraid of him.
Nicholas looked at me.
“Colonel Gardner, I understand you're upset.”
I stared.
“Upset?”
“Yes.”
He sighed.
“But this situation is being exaggerated.”
I stepped closer.
“My daughter is in a hospital bed.”
He swallowed.
“I know.”
“No.”
My voice remained quiet.
“You know she is inconvenient.”
His expression changed.
For the first time, he saw me differently.
Not as Abigail's mother.
As someone who had stopped believing him.
After he left, Abigail whispered:
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“I'm sorry.”
My heart broke.
“For what?”
“For ruining everything.”
I sat beside her.
“Abigail.”
She looked at me.
“You didn't ruin anything.”
I touched her hand.
“They did.”
Later that afternoon, Abigail finally told me everything.
The guest house.
The threats.
The isolation.
The financial pressure.
The way Patricia constantly reminded her:
“You are lucky we accepted you.”
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
“They wanted me to sign something.”
“What?”
“Property documents.”
I froze.
“Which property?”
She looked away.
“My apartment.”
Her apartment.
The one I helped her buy after college.
The one I told her nobody could ever take from her.
Now I understood.
This wasn't just cruelty.
It was control.
That evening, I returned to the hospital room after making calls.
Abigail looked at me.
“Are you angry?”
I thought about it.
“Yes.”
She looked afraid.
I softened my voice.
“But not at you.”
She whispered:
“What are you going to do?”
I looked at her.
“The thing I should have done the moment I saw you hurt.”
May you like
“What?”
“Protect you.”
