Chapter 5 - THE POISONED ROOTS
The next few weeks were a blur of trauma, healing, and relentless legal meetings. Carla was discharged from the hospital five days later, returning to a home that had been completely secured. Spencer had hired private security to patrol their property and installed a state-of-the-art alarm system. He took an indefinite leave of absence from his job, refusing to let Carla out of his sight.
Physically, Carla was healing. Her incision was closing, and the bruises on her head were fading to a dull yellow. But psychologically, she was trapped in a nightmare.
Late at night, when the triplets were finally asleep, she would sit in the rocking chair, staring blankly at the wall. How had she not seen it? How had she been so blind to the monster her father truly was?
The memories began to flood back, untainted by the lens of daughterly obligation. She remembered being a teenager, when Thomas had forced her to give up her college savings to pay for Travis’s legal fees after a drunk driving incident. “Family takes care of family,” he had said. She remembered Amanda always telling her to “keep the peace” whenever Travis broke her things.
They had always viewed her as a resource, an extension of their own needs. Her happiness was only acceptable if it served them. And when she produced three beautiful children, they simply saw inventory to be redistributed to the golden child.
One afternoon, the doorbell rang. Spencer was at the pharmacy, but the security guard was stationed outside. Carla checked the camera monitor.
It was a delivery driver, holding a thick envelope.
Carla signed for it through the cracked door. Inside was a handwritten letter from Megan.
Carla,
I hope you're happy. You've destroyed this family. Travis is facing jail time, and he lost his job because of the arrest. We are losing the house. Thomas’s reputation is ruined. We were just trying to love that baby. You have two others. You are so selfish. You’ve always been selfish.
Megan
May you like
Carla stared at the ink on the page. The sheer, unadulterated narcissism was breathtaking. They were facing prison for attempted kidnapping, yet they still saw themselves as the victims.
A profound shift happened within Carla in that moment. The last lingering shreds of guilt—the tiny voice in her head that still sounded like her mother telling her to keep the peace—evaporated. She walked into the kitchen, struck a match, and burned the letter over the sink. She wasn't just going to survive this. She was going to bury them.
