Chapter 8 - What Mrs. Eleanor Hid
The protective-order hearing was scheduled while Benjamin remained in the NICU.
Dana explained the process carefully.
I would have to speak about what happened.
Carter could contest my account.
The judge would evaluate the evidence and decide what protections were appropriate.
I could attend with legal representation.
I could also request accommodations related to my recovery.
None of it sounded easy.
But I had already survived the hardest night of my life.
I wasn't going to let the fear of seeing Carter stop me from telling the truth.
Three days before the hearing, I received an unexpected visitor.
Her name was Rebecca Hale.
Carter's younger sister.
She was twenty-seven, worked as a dental hygienist, and had never been particularly close to me.
I had seen her only a handful of times during our marriage.
Mostly at holidays.
Mostly when Eleanor complained about her.
Rebecca stood outside my hospital room holding a small paper bag.
Her eyes were red.
"Nora?"
I looked up.
"Rebecca."
She glanced behind her.
"Can I come in?"
I hesitated.
Then nodded.
She stepped inside and placed the bag on my bedside table.
"Blueberry muffins," she said awkwardly. "I remembered you liked them."
"Thank you."
She sat down.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she looked at my face.
The swelling around my lip had started to fade.
The bruise beneath my cheekbone had not.
Rebecca stared at it.
"Oh, my God."
I looked away.
She covered her mouth.
"He really did it."
I turned toward her.
"What did Carter tell you?"
Her laugh was bitter.
"That you fell. Then that you were hysterical. Then that you attacked Mom."
I stared at her.
Rebecca shook her head.
"He's been changing the story every few hours."
"That's Carter."
She looked down at her hands.
"I know."
Something in her voice made me pause.
"Rebecca?"
She took a breath.
"There's something I need to tell you."
I waited.
She twisted a tissue between her fingers.
"When I was sixteen, Carter broke my wrist."
I went completely still.
"What?"
"He was twenty-two. He'd come home from college for the summer. We got into an argument over the car."
My chest tightened.
"He grabbed my arm and twisted it."
I stared at her.
"What did Eleanor do?"
Rebecca's expression hardened.
"She told the doctor I fell down the stairs."
I felt suddenly cold.
Rebecca looked up.
"Mom said Carter was under pressure. That I provoked him. That if I told the truth, I'd ruin his future."
I whispered, "I'm so sorry."
She shook her head.
"I didn't come here for sympathy."
"Then why?"
She reached into her purse.
And pulled out a small black flash drive.
I stared at it.
"What's that?"
"Mom's files."
I blinked.
"What?"
Rebecca swallowed.
"She called me the morning after you went to the hospital. She was panicking. She said the police might search the house and asked me to remove some things from her study."
I stared at the flash drive.
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"Rebecca—"
"I know. I shouldn't have."
She wiped her face.
"She gave me a folder and a flash drive. Told me to keep them somewhere safe."
"What's on it?"
"I looked."
Her hands were shaking.
"There are scanned documents with your signature. Copies of medical forms. Emails between Mom and Carter."
My heart began pounding.
"What kind of emails?"
Rebecca looked sick.
"About your trust. About how to get you to sign things. About whether Carter could handle your money if you were hospitalized."
I stared at her.
"Why are you giving this to me?"
She swallowed.
"Because I saw his video."
"What video?"
"The one where he stood outside the hospital saying he was a loving husband."
Her expression changed.
"He made the same video when Dad died."
I frowned.
"What?"
Rebecca looked toward the window.
"Our father had a stroke six years ago. Carter gave a speech at the funeral about how devoted he'd been."
Her voice cracked.
"But he barely visited him."
She wiped her eyes.
"I watched my brother cry for a camera while people called him wonderful. And I remembered Mom telling me to keep quiet about everything that happened in our house."
She looked back at me.
"I couldn't do it again."
I stared at the flash drive.
There were a hundred things I wanted to ask.
But only one came out.
"Does Eleanor know you're here?"
Rebecca shook her head.
"No."
"Does Carter?"
"No."
She leaned closer.
"And you need to know something else."
"What?"
"Mom has been telling people you're mentally unstable."
I let out a bitter laugh.
"She's been doing that for years."
Rebecca shook her head.
"No. I mean she's been gathering things."
I felt my stomach drop.
"What things?"
"Copies of messages you sent Carter when you were upset. Photographs of your medication. Notes about times you cried."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"She said Carter might need proof you weren't capable of caring for the baby."
The room seemed to shrink.
I thought about every time I'd cried during my pregnancy.
Every argument that ended with Carter taking out his phone.
Every moment when Mrs. Eleanor watched me with that thin, satisfied smile.
They hadn't simply been insulting me.
They had been collecting material.
Rebecca reached for my hand.
"There's one more thing."
I looked at her.
"Mom didn't push you by accident."
My pulse quickened.
Rebecca's face turned pale.
"How do you know?"
"Because I heard her talking to Carter before it happened."
I sat perfectly still.
Rebecca lowered her voice.
"I called her that afternoon. She didn't realize she'd answered. I could hear them arguing in the kitchen."
"What were they saying?"
Rebecca closed her eyes.
"Mom said you were getting suspicious. Carter said he had everything under control."
I gripped the blanket.
"And then?"
Rebecca opened her eyes.
"Mom said, 'If she ends up in the hospital, that's our opening.'"
I couldn't breathe.
Rebecca began crying.
"I didn't know what they meant. I thought they were talking about the baby. I thought—"
She stopped.
I stared at her.
"Rebecca, what else did you hear?"
She wiped her cheeks.
"Carter said, 'Just make sure she doesn't get to her father first.'"
A chill ran through me.
I remembered the moment Carter threw my phone.
The way he seemed almost furious when I asked to call Dad.
The way Eleanor watched from her chair.
For two years, I had believed my husband and mother-in-law were simply cruel.
Now I was beginning to wonder whether their cruelty had become something more deliberate.
Rebecca slid the flash drive toward me.
"Please give this to someone who knows what to do with it."
I didn't touch it.
Instead, I picked up the hospital phone and called Dana.
When she answered, I said, "Someone's here with information."
Dana asked who.
I looked at Rebecca.
"My husband's sister."
Dana's voice sharpened.
"What kind of information?"
May you like
I stared at the black flash drive.
"Something that might prove this was planned."
