Chapter 8 - The Intercom at the Gate
Two days later, the temperature dropped to five degrees below zero.
A heavy blizzard enveloped Chicago, turning the Gold Coast into a white ghost town. Outside the wrought-iron gates of the Vance estate, a lone figure stood in the howling wind, leaning against the stone pillar.
It was Daniel.
He wore his winter overcoat, but he had forgotten his gloves. His face was blotchy, red from the wind and swollen from days of crying. He pressed the buzzer on the gate callbox again, and again, and again.
Inside the security gatehouse, Marcus watched the high-definition monitor.
“Miss Sarah,” Marcus said into his earpiece. “He’s been out there for forty-five minutes. He’s showing early signs of hypothermia. Do you want me to have the private patrol remove him?”
I stood in the second-floor library, holding a warm mug of chamomile tea, watching the monitor feed on my laptop. Emma was downstairs in the music room, practicing the piano with her instructor, her bright, innocent laughter drifting up through the floorboards.
“No, Marcus,” I said. “Connect the callbox to my line.”
A soft click sounded through my laptop.
“Daniel,” I said.
The figure on the screen jerked upright, frantically stumbling toward the brass grille of the intercom.
“Sarah!” he cried, his voice shredded by the freezing wind and tears. “Sarah! Oh God, please! Please let me in! I just need five minutes! Just five minutes to explain!”
“There is nothing to explain, Daniel.”
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Sarah! I was weak! I was terrified of Mom! You know how she is, she’s controlled me my entire life! I didn't know what to do!”
“You knew what to do,” I said softly, looking out at the snow falling through the bare oak trees. “A man protects his wife. A father protects his child. You didn't do either. You chose the woman who abused you because it was easier than standing up for the woman who loved you.”
“I love you!” he screamed, his voice cracking against the iron bars. “I love Emma! They took the company, Sarah! My dad signed everything away! We have nothing! Mom is facing three years in prison because the state’s attorney upgraded the charges to aggravated battery! They won’t let me see Emma!”
“The court granted full temporary custody to me,” I said, my tone as steady and cold as the ice on the lake. “You received the paperwork.”
“Don't do this to our family!” he begged, falling to his knees in the dirty slush piled against the curb. “We can start over! We can leave Chicago! We can go somewhere where no one knows our names! Just you, me, and Emma!”
A bitter, quiet smile touched my lips.
“You still don't understand, do you, Daniel?”
“Understand what? Tell me! I’ll do anything!”
“You wanted to go somewhere where no one knew our names because you thought *my* name was nobody,” I said. “You wanted me weak. You wanted me dependent. You wanted me to swallow your mother’s insults so you didn't have to grow a spine.”
“No... no, that’s not true—”
“Goodbye, Daniel.”
“Sarah! Sarah, please! Don't hang up! SARAH!”
I clicked the disconnect button.
On the screen, Daniel collapsed forward, his forehead pressing against the cold iron of the gate, his shoulders shaking as the Lake Forest snow began to cover him like a shroud.
Marcus stepped out of the gatehouse, escorted by two security guards. They didn't strike him. They simply lifted him by the elbows, hailed a waiting city taxi, placed him in the backseat, paid the driver fifty dollars, and ordered the cab to take him to the nearest budget motel.
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I closed my laptop, took a sip of my warm tea, and walked downstairs to hear my daughter play the piano.
***
