How I Messed Up My Daughter’s Childhood
“There’s this cute bed and breakfast a few hours north. Very secluded, romantic. We could reconnect, you know, away from all the stress.”
Secluded. Isolated. No witnesses.
“Sounds nice,”
I lied.
“Let me check my work schedule.”
That night Veronica’s second phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. She kept sneaking off to answer it and coming back looking frustrated.
I heard her at one point saying,
“He’s not stupid and we need more time.”
Friday morning came too slow. I barely slept and kept checking that Arya’s door was locked.
Veronica made coffee as usual. I pretended to drink it and acted extra drowsy.
She seemed pleased and gave me an extra long kiss goodbye.
“Have a good day, baby,”
she said.
“Tonight’s going to be special.”
I drove to work but doubled back and parked down the street. The investigator was already there in an unmarked car.
We waited. Around noon, Veronica left the house carrying a suitcase.
She loaded it into her car and went back for another. She was running.
The investigator called his police contact: change of plans, they needed to move now. But when the police got to Marcus’ apartment, he was already gone.
A neighbor said he’d left in a hurry that morning, throwing bags into his Mercedes. I called Arya’s school in a panic.
She was in class, safe. I told them there was a family emergency and that no one but me was authorized to pick her up.
By the time I got home, Veronica was back, acting normal like she hadn’t just tried to flee. The suitcases were gone.
“You’re home early,”
she said, not quite meeting my eyes.
“Wasn’t feeling well. That coffee this morning hit different.”
She frowned and came over to feel my forehead.
“You do feel warm. Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll bring you some soup.”
I went upstairs but didn’t lie down. Instead I called the lawyer and told him what happened.
He said to stick to the plan and act normal; they were tracking Marcus’ car and would find him soon. But I knew Veronica was done waiting.
Whatever she’d planned for tomorrow, it was happening tonight. I texted Arya and told her to go to her friend Grace’s house after school.
I told her to say she was sleeping over and not to come home no matter what. Around 4:00 I heard Veronica on her phone again.
“Tonight? Yes, I’m sure. He’s practically unconscious. Bring the van.”
I grabbed my phone and started recording. Then I did something stupid: I confronted her.
I walked right into the kitchen where she was making dinner and said,
“I know everything.”
She froze, knife in hand.
“What are you talking about?”
“Marcus. The other families. What you’re planning for Arya.”
For a second her mask slipped. I saw the real Veronica: cold, calculating, dangerous.
Then she smiled.
“You’re confused, baby. The sedatives can cause paranoia. Why don’t you sit down?”
“I haven’t been drinking the coffee, Veronica. Or should I say, Vivien?”
The knife clattered to the counter.
“How long?”
“Weeks. I have recordings, photos, everything. Police are already looking for Marcus.”
She laughed. Actually laughed.
“You think you’re so smart, but you’re just another pathetic single dad who can’t see what’s right in front of him.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Arya came to me, you idiot! She wanted this. Wanted someone to show her how to use what she has. You think she’s your innocent little girl, but she’s been sneaking out for months. I just helped her find better options than the losers at school.”
“You’re lying.”
“Am I? Check her room. Check under her mattress.”
I didn’t move. I couldn’t give her the satisfaction.
She stepped closer.
“You have no idea what girls her age are really like, what they want. I was just giving her what she asked for.”
“You were grooming her. Selling her.”
“I was teaching her to survive in a world that eats little girls alive. Would you rather she learn from me or from someone who actually wants to hurt her?”
“You mean like Marcus?”
Her eye twitched.
“Marcus is a businessman. He takes care of his girls.”
“His girls? How many others, Veronica?”
She shrugged.
