Chapter 1: The Wrong Plate
Marcus had always believed that if something was seriously wrong at home, he would know.
He was wrong.
His business trip was supposed to last three more days, but a client canceled the final meetings. Instead of staying in the hotel, Marcus changed his flight and decided to surprise the family.
He imagined Ava running toward him.
Caleb asking what he had brought home.
Nia trying to pretend she had not missed him.
Instead, the first thing Marcus saw when he opened the front door was Nia standing alone with a plate in her hands.
Vanessa sat at the dining table with Caleb and Ava.
Their plates were full.
Chicken.
Rice.
Vegetables.
Fresh bread.
Nia’s plate looked nothing like theirs.
A little plain rice.
A few cold vegetables.
Some leftovers.
Marcus stopped in the doorway.
Nobody moved.
The air smelled like rosemary chicken and warm bread, but the food on Nia’s plate looked as though it had been scraped together from the bottom of the refrigerator.
Marcus slowly closed the door behind him.
“Why isn’t she sitting with everyone?””
Vanessa turned.
For the briefest second, surprise crossed her face.
Then it vanished.
“She wanted to eat in the kitchen.””
Marcus looked at Nia.
“Is that true?””
Nia immediately glanced toward Vanessa.
That glance bothered him more than the plate.
“No, Dad.””
Marcus set down his travel bag.
“Then sit with me.””
Nia hesitated.
Marcus pulled out the chair beside him.
She approached slowly, carrying the plate with both hands.
As she came closer, Marcus reached for it.
“I’ve got it.””
Nia let him take the plate.
He looked at what was left on it.
Then at Caleb’s plate.
Then Ava’s.
Then back at Nia’s.
“Why is this all she has?””
Vanessa answered immediately.
“She said she wasn’t hungry.””
Marcus looked at his daughter.
“Nia?””
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the chair.
She swallowed.
“Dad…”
Vanessa’s fork clicked sharply against her plate.
“Nia, don't start.””
Marcus turned.
“Let her finish.””
Nia’s eyes filled with tears.
“That’s what she gives me when you’re away.””
The room went silent.
Vanessa’s voice hardened.
“She’s lying.””
A chair scraped against the floor.
Ava stood.
The eight-year-old was holding a smartphone against her chest.
“She’s not lying.””
Vanessa’s head snapped toward her.
“Ava. Put that phone away.””
Ava shook her head.
“Dad, I took pictures every time you went on a work trip.””
Marcus stared at her.
“Pictures of what?””
Ava unlocked the phone with trembling fingers.
“What Mom makes Nia eat.””
Vanessa stood so fast her chair tipped backward.
“Give me that phone!””
Ava stepped behind Marcus.
He calmly moved between them.
“Don’t touch her.””
“I said give it to me!””
“You heard him,” Nia whispered.
Vanessa glared at her.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.””
Marcus looked down at the screen.
The first photo showed a dinner table.
Nia sat at the far end.
Everyone else had a warm meal.
Nia had two slices of bread and a glass of water.
Marcus swiped.
The next photograph was worse.
Ava had apparently taken it from the hallway.
Nia was sitting alone at the kitchen counter while Vanessa stood beside the stove.
In front of Nia was a bowl of rice with nothing on it.
Another swipe.
Nia’s dinner plate was sitting beside a trash can.
Another.
The kitchen clock showed 8:47 p.m.
Everyone else’s plates were still on the dining table.
Marcus felt a cold pressure move through his chest.
“How long?”” he asked.
Nobody answered.
He looked at Nia.
“How long has this been happening?””
Nia stared at the table.
“Since last winter.””
Vanessa folded her arms.
“This is ridiculous.””
Marcus turned to her.
“You said she wasn't hungry.””
“She is dramatic.””
“You said she wanted to eat alone.””
“She did.””
“You said she was lying.””
“I said she misunderstood.””
Marcus’s voice dropped.
“And all of those pictures?””
Vanessa opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Ava slowly reached for the phone.
“There are more.””
Marcus looked at her.
“How many?””
Ava whispered, “Thirty-six.””
Vanessa’s face changed.
Not guilt.
Fear.
Marcus swiped again.
The thirty-seventh image appeared.
It wasn't a dinner plate.
It was a photograph of a document sitting on Vanessa’s desk.
At the top was one word in bold letters:
*NIA.*
Marcus stared.
“Why,” he whispered, “did my wife have a file with my daughter’s name on it?””
May you like
Vanessa lunged for the phone.
And this time, Marcus saw exactly what she was afraid he would read.
