Chapter 2: The Secret Behind the Scissors
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Kayla was still wrapped around my neck, her little fingers clutching the collar of my shirt.
Brittany stood in the bathroom doorway, watching me.
"What does Vanessa have to do with this?"" I asked.
Brittany shrugged.
"Nothing. Forget I said anything.""
"No. You brought her name into this. Explain.""
She glanced toward Kayla.
"Not in front of the child.""
I almost laughed.
"You had no problem shaving her head in front of the child.""
Brittany's expression hardened.
"You're making me sound like some kind of monster.""
I carried Kayla into her bedroom and sat her on the bed.
"Princess, I need you to stay here for a minute. I'm going to get you some water.""
"Don't leave me with her.""
"I won't.""
I pulled the bedroom door mostly closed, leaving it open enough for Kayla to see me.
When I returned to the hallway, Brittany was standing beside the bathroom counter, gathering the fallen hair into a plastic shopping bag.
"What are you doing?"" I asked.
"Cleaning up.""
"Put that down.""
She stopped.
"Why?""
"Because those are the remains of what you did to my daughter. Nobody touches anything until the authorities arrive.""
Brittany dropped the bag.
"You've completely lost your mind.""
I took a photograph of the bathroom.
Then another.
The clippers.
The scattered hair.
The small red mark above Kayla's ear.
I photographed everything.
Brittany watched me with growing irritation.
"Are you building a case against your own wife?""
"I'm documenting what happened.""
"You're unbelievable.""
"No. What's unbelievable is that you heard a six-year-old begging you to stop and kept going.""
She crossed her arms.
"She was being difficult. I told her I was only trimming it.""
"Then why did you shave it?""
"Because she wouldn't stop moving!""
"She was crying.""
"Children cry!""
Her voice echoed through the hallway.
From the bedroom, Kayla began crying again.
I turned toward the door.
Brittany sighed.
"See? This is exactly what I mean. She knows how to manipulate you.""
I faced her.
"Don't ever call my daughter manipulative again.""
The doorbell rang.
Two officers arrived, followed shortly by an emergency medical professional who examined Kayla's scalp and the small cut near her ear.
I answered every question honestly.
Brittany gave a different version.
She claimed Kayla had begged her to cut her hair because it was too difficult to maintain.
The officer looked at Kayla.
"Sweetheart, can you tell me what happened?""
Kayla looked at me first.
I nodded gently.
"Tell the truth, baby.""
She swallowed.
"I didn't want my hair cut.""
"What happened after you told her that?""
Kayla lowered her eyes.
"She said I was being bad. Then she held my head.""
Brittany interrupted.
"That's not what happened!""
The officer raised a hand.
"Ma'am, please let her finish.""
Kayla continued.
"She said Daddy liked my hair better than hers. She said I always got everything.""
My chest tightened.
The officer wrote something down.
"Did she hurt you?""
Kayla nodded.
"She pulled my hair, and then she used the machine.""
The medical professional gently examined the uneven patches.
"We should have a pediatrician evaluate that small cut and check for any additional irritation," she said.
I thanked her.
Meanwhile, the second officer asked Brittany to explain her actions.
Brittany's voice became softer.
"I was overwhelmed. I'm a stepmother. Nobody understands how difficult it is. Darius works constantly, and I'm the one raising this child.""
I stepped forward.
"You are not raising her. You are supposed to be helping care for her.""
Brittany turned toward me.
"You promised me we'd be a family.""
"And I meant it.""
"Then why are you treating me like an enemy?""
"Because you hurt my daughter.""
The officer eventually explained that the incident would be documented and that further investigation could follow. He also advised us to preserve any relevant evidence and avoid discussing the details with Kayla in a way that could influence her account.
I agreed.
Brittany didn't.
She kept repeating that everyone was exaggerating.
When the officers finished, I arranged for Brittany to stay elsewhere while the situation was investigated. I made it clear that she would not be alone with Kayla again.
She stood near the front door, holding her handbag.
"You'll come crawling back," she said.
I didn't answer.
She stepped closer.
"You're making a huge mistake, Darius.""
I opened the door.
"Leave.""
She walked outside.
Then she stopped on the porch.
"Ask your precious dead wife why she never told you about the money.""
My heart skipped.
"What money?""
Brittany looked over her shoulder.
"Exactly.""
Then she walked to her car.
I watched her drive away.
For several minutes, I remained at the doorway.
Vanessa.
Money.
What was Brittany talking about?
I returned to Kayla's room.
She was sitting on her bed, holding a stuffed rabbit that Vanessa had bought her shortly before she died.
I sat beside her.
"How are you feeling, sweetheart?""
She touched the side of her head.
"Will my hair grow back?""
I swallowed.
"Yes, baby. It will grow back.""
"Will Mommy's curls come back?""
I brushed my thumb across her cheek.
"They're still yours. And nothing can take away the memories you have of Mommy.""
She leaned against me.
"Daddy?""
"Yes?""
"Did I do something bad?""
The question nearly broke me.
I pulled her into my arms.
"No. You did absolutely nothing wrong.""
"Then why was she so mad?""
I didn't have an answer that a six-year-old should have to hear.
So I kissed her forehead.
"Some grown-ups make terrible choices. That's never the child's fault.""
That night, I slept on the floor beside her bed.
At 2:13 a.m., my phone vibrated.
It was a message from Brittany.
*Brittany:* You should have asked me about Vanessa before you called the police.
I stared at the screen.
Another message appeared.
*Brittany:* Check the blue folder in your office. The one you never opened.
I sat up.
The blue folder.
I remembered it immediately.
After Vanessa died, I had brought home several boxes of paperwork from her apartment. Most contained insurance documents, medical records, and old financial statements.
I had placed them in my office and never looked through them properly.
I walked downstairs.
The house was silent except for the refrigerator humming in the kitchen.
I opened the bottom cabinet of my desk and pulled out the blue folder.
Inside were old bank statements, legal documents, and a sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front.
The handwriting was Vanessa's.
My hands began shaking.
I opened it carefully.
Inside was a letter dated three weeks before she died.
"Darius,
If you're reading this, something may have happened before I could explain everything to you.
Please look after Kayla.
And whatever you do, never allow anyone to control the money I left for her.
Especially not someone who suddenly becomes interested in being her mother.
There is something you need to know about Brittany Collins.
You don't know her as well as you think.
Love always,
Vanessa.""
I read the letter twice.
Then a third time.
Brittany had known Vanessa before I met her.
But she had told me they had never crossed paths.
I reached into the envelope again.
There was a second document.
A photograph.
Vanessa stood outside a restaurant with another woman.
The woman was Brittany.
They were smiling.
And on the back of the photograph, Vanessa had written six words.
*"She knows what happened to my sister.""*
I stared at the photograph.
My wife's sister had died years before Vanessa.
I knew almost nothing about that tragedy because Vanessa rarely discussed it.
What I did know was that her sister, Olivia, had left behind a daughter.
A little girl Vanessa had tried to protect.
I picked up my phone and searched through the old contacts.
There was one name I hadn't called in years.
Vanessa's former attorney.
I dialed.
A sleepy voice answered.
"Hello?""
"Mr. Reynolds, this is Darius Mitchell. I'm Vanessa's husband.""
There was a pause.
"Mr. Mitchell? Is everything all right?""
"No. I just found a letter Vanessa left me. It mentions Brittany Collins.""
The silence on the other end became uncomfortable.
Then Reynolds spoke.
"Where is Brittany now?""
"She's out of my house. Why?""
He took a breath.
"Mr. Mitchell, I need you to come to my office tomorrow morning.""
"Why?""
"Because if the Brittany Collins I'm thinking of is the same woman, your wife may have been trying to warn you about her for years.""
I looked down at the photograph.
"What exactly did Brittany do?""
The attorney hesitated.
May you like
Then he said something I would never forget.
"She wasn't a stranger to your family, Mr. Mitchell. She was connected to the money Vanessa put aside for Kayla.""
