Chapter 3 - Broken Pieces
The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft blue glow of the heart monitor and the streetlights filtering through the window blinds. Ruby lay in the center of the large hospital bed, looking impossibly small. Half of her head was wrapped in pristine white bandages covering her left eye and temple. An IV line was taped to the back of her tiny hand.
As soon as the door clicked shut, her right eye opened slowly.
"Mommy?" her voice was small, raspy, and trembling.
I rushed to her bedside, kneeling on the floor so my face was level with hers, carefully taking her small, uninjured hand in mine. "I'm right here, baby. Mommy's right here. You're safe now."
"Mommy... why is it so dark?" she whispered, tears leaking from her right eye and soaking into the white pillowcase. "I can't open my left eye. Did I do something bad? Was I not supposed to eat the cake?"
A sob caught in my throat, threatening to choke me, but I forced it down. She needed me to be strong. She needed a fortress, not a wreck.
"No, sweetie. No, no, no," I kissed her tiny knuckles gently, holding back my own tears. "You did absolutely nothing wrong. You are the sweetest, best girl in the entire world. The cake was for you. Grandma gave it to you, remember?"
"Aunt Vanessa was so mad," Ruby whimpered, her chest heaving as she began to cry softly. "She grabbed my hair. It hurted so bad, Mommy. Why did Aunt Vanessa hurt me? Doesn't she like me?"
"Aunt Vanessa is a very sick, mean person," I told her, making sure my eyes were steady so she could see the truth in them. "And she is never, ever going to come near you again. Neither is Grandma or Grandpa. I promise you that on my life, Ruby. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again."
She squeezed my hand with her limited strength. "Where are we going to go?"
"We're going home as soon as the doctors say you're ready," I assured her. "Just you and me. We'll get a new puppy. We'll repaint your room pink. Whatever you want."
While Ruby drifted back to sleep under the influence of her pain medication, my phone vibrated on the bedside table. It was a call from an unknown number. I stepped out into the quiet corner of the room to answer it.
"Hello?"
"Claire Hayes?" a professional female voice asked.
"Yes, this is Claire."
"My name is Eleanor Vance. I am a senior managing partner at Vance & Associates Law Firm, specializing in victim advocacy and high-profile prosecution support. I was contacted an hour ago by Detective Frank Miller regarding your daughter's case."
I frowned, rubbing my aching forehead. "I... I haven't hired an attorney yet, Ms. Vance. I don't even know if I can afford one right now. I'm a single mother working as an interior designer..."
"Claire, listen to me very carefully," Ms. Vance interrupted, her tone warm yet commanding. "You don't owe me a dime. My firm works closely with the child protection task force, and when Detective Miller showed me the kitchen surveillance footage and the medical reports, I volunteered to take your civil case pro bono. Furthermore, I am coordinating directly with the District Attorney's office to ensure that Vanessa Hayes does not receive a slap-on-the-wrist plea deal."
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I swallowed hard, a ray of hope finally cutting through the darkness of the night. "They're already trying to blame me, Ms. Vance. My father was a magistrate. He knows judges in this county. He's already calling in favors."
"Your father was a magistrate," Ms. Vance corrected crisply. "And I am a former state prosecutor who sits on the judicial oversight board. Let your father try to use his outdated connections, Claire. It will only make his own indictment come faster. Tomorrow morning, I am filing for an immediate, permanent emergency restraining order against your sister and both of your parents. Rest now. The fight begins at sunrise."
