Henry wrapped his arm around Monica’s and escorted her to the men in uniform and the woman in a department store suit.She must be the detective.Monica barely remembered them from when they turned her home upside down looking for clues about Abigail’s disappearance. While everyone wanted their official statements and assurance that they would take Abigail to the doctor as soon as feasible, there was something else on Monica’s mind.
“What happens to Isabella?”
That was the million-dollar question that Monica would happily pay to answer. Yet nothing was ever simple in these cases. Currently, as far as anyone knew, Isabella was still in Thailand. If she was smart, she would stay there, letting her best friend harbor her.But if we wanted to press charges and have her extradited…They could do that from Thailand, right?
Both Henry and the detective had to get her attention again. Monica’s mind was elsewhere, imagining Isabella in a prison jumpsuit doing a perp walk.
They approached the podium and microphone set up for them by the concourse. A dozen reporters shouted questions at them, but the chief of police took the opportunity to introduce the case and highlight the most important updates, such as Abigail’s safe return. When he turned it over to the Warrens, Henry stepped forward to give his rehearsed statement to the press. Monica stood with him, but couldn’t bring herself to speak.
She realized she stared into a local news camera.Local my ass.It was from a major network that would doubtlessly send this to all of their affiliates across the country. By this time tomorrow, everyone would know Monica and Abigail’s names.
She had her own opportunity to say something to the press, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. Monica was suddenly exhausted. All she could think about was passing out in her bed back at Warren Manor as if she hadn’t done that just two days ago.But I didn’t have Abigail.If she went home now, she could see her daughter again.
It was that weakness that made her freeze up in front of the microphone. Once it was apparent she couldn’t say anything, Henry stepped in and apologized, with Dana offering further information that the print media could run with.
Monica apologized when they got into the car Dana provided them. They both told her to not worry about it.
“You were crying on camera,” Dana mused. “The strong mother who risked everything to fly across the world to get her daughter back. A real Sally Field. We can use this for your long-term image rehabilitation.”
“Excuse me?” Monica asked.
“Sally Field.Not Without My Daughter? It’s perfect. Just instead of Iran, it’s Thailand.”
“Ms. McMillan, please,” Henry urged.
“You pay me to see these connections that the public loves.”
“What do you mean rehabilitate my image?”
Dana clicked her tongue. “Journalists are about to do more digging in you two. While you have always been an ideal couple because you know how to keep your noses on your own work, we have Evangeline to thank for blowing holes open in the Warren name for years. Never mind your father’s penchant for gambling away most of the family fortune,” Dana said to Henry. “Despite Monica having several shell companies to cover up herhospitality businesses, it’s always possible someone uncovers Le Château while doing their investigations. We have to always stay ahead of that now. Which means painting Monica as the ideal, distraught mother who would do anything to save her child.”
“Well…” Henry crossed his legs, knee brushing up against Monica’s thigh. “Hopefully it won’t come to that.”
Monica remained silent the rest of the way home.Everything is blowing up in my face.She couldn’t emote what she felt very well, but she knew that the twisting knot in her stomach and the bile in her throat were not good omens for what was to come.
Retrieving Abigail and ensuring her health were the first good things to fly out of her personal Pandora’s Box. Yet there was that pesky thing at the bottom, struggling to crawl up the sides and scream.
“Everything you’ve ever worked for, everything that’s defined you, is about to crash.”
Monica didn’t know if she had it in her to rebuild again.
One week later, when the detectives cleared Warren Manor, when the journalists stopped calling at all hours of the day, and when Abigail felt ready to go back to school after her family doted on her and the doctor gave her a clean bill of health, one major thing came to a head.
Isabella brazenly flew back to New England.
They were tipped off by Nina, who called from Phuket because her team had been keeping an eye on the comings and goings of Mercy’s Grove. She claimed that as soon as she saw Isabella packing her bags into a car and being ported to the airport, she knew she had to say something.
Her hunch was correct. Isabella had returned to the States, believing that she hadn’t done anything wrong.
The worst part? She came straight to Warren Manor, the one place she had been toldnotto go. And Monica was prepared.
“What is the meaning of this?” While a commotion erupted in the main house, Monica rushed out to discover Isabella being handcuffed by two uniformed police officers who had been called by one of the staff. “In my own home? I’ll have you know,officer,that I’ve spent the better part of my life living in this house! How dare you do this? Uncuff me right now!”
Monica stood at the top of the stairs leading to the East Wing, where she and Henry had been discussing something unrelated. The worst part wasn’t that Henry joined her on the stairs, watching everything unfold – it was Abigail peering over the banister, her eyes wide and her cheeks pale in fear.
“Matilda!” Henry hissed to the nanny rushing out. “Get her out of here!”
But Abigail was glued to the banister. Monica couldn’t do anything about it as she hustled down the stairs and intercepted Eva as she came out of the West Wing.
