Chapter 1 - THE SLAP
My sister slapped my six-month-old baby at Christmas dinner.
Then she laughed.
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Not my mother.
Not my father.
Not the six relatives sitting around the table.
Nobody.
Except my husband.
Captain James Walker slowly pushed his chair back and stood.
And the second Lauren saw his face, she stopped smiling.
It was Emma’s first Christmas.
James had returned from an eleven-month deployment only twelve days earlier, and he had spent nearly every waking minute holding our daughter like he was trying to recover every second he had missed.
Emma wore a tiny red onesie with white reindeer on the front.
She had been sleepy through most of dinner.
Then she started fussing.
I lifted her from her carrier.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whispered.
Across the table, Lauren rolled her eyes.
“There you go again.”
I looked at her. “Excuse me?”
“You grab her every time she makes a noise.”
“She’s six months old.”
“And already spoiled.”
James glanced up from his plate.
“Lauren.”
His voice carried a warning.
She ignored it.
Lauren had always ignored warnings.
She stood and approached me.
“Give her here.”
“No.”
“Oh, come on. I know how to handle babies.”
Emma started crying harder when Lauren reached toward her.
I turned away.
“She doesn’t want to go to you.”
Lauren’s face changed.
It was subtle.
A flash of irritation.
Then she reached past me.
Her palm struck Emma’s cheek.
A small sound.
A tiny movement.
But my daughter screamed.
Everything inside me exploded.
“What the hell did you just do?”
I pulled Emma against my chest.
Lauren actually laughed.
“Relax, Rachel. It was a tap.”
“You hit my baby!”
“She was screaming in my face.”
“She’s SIX MONTHS OLD!”
I looked at my parents.
“Say something!”
Mom stared at the table.
Dad rubbed his jaw.
My aunt Linda whispered, “Maybe everybody should calm down.”
Calm down?
My baby was sobbing against my chest.
Lauren crossed her arms.
“You’ve always been dramatic.”
Then James stood.
His chair scraped across the hardwood.
Silence dropped over the room.
James looked directly at Lauren.
“Get out.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“You put your hand on my daughter.”
“Oh, please.”
“Leave.”
Lauren looked toward Mom.
“Are you seriously going to let him throw me out of your house?”
My mother finally raised her head.
And what she said next made my blood run cold.
“James,” she whispered, “maybe Lauren didn’t mean to do it.”
James stared at her.
Then at me.
Then back at Lauren.
And suddenly I realized something terrifying.
My family wasn’t shocked because Lauren had hit Emma.
May you like
They were shocked because she had finally done it in front of someone who wouldn’t protect her.
And James was about to find out exactly how long they had been protecting her.
