Page 44 of The Birthday Girl
Both children fell asleep. Tyriq Jr. first, his head slumping on his car seat harness, thumb in mouth, and Kali later with her face pressed to the window. Shanice drove with the radio off, her left hand at ten o’clock, her right knee bouncing so hard it blistered against the steering column.
The hum of the tires and the rhythm of her knee should have been soothing, but her mind refused to quiet. Every mile stretched her nerves tighter, every shadow of headlights in the rearview set her pulse hammering. She wanted to keep driving until the road itself ran out, but that took money, and she had none.
Rent, groceries, and overdue bills had drained her checking account. What cash she had left would barely cover a tank of gas and cheap takeout. To get her kids to safety, to put miles, not blocks, between them and whoever had left that box, she needed more money than she had ever needed in her life.
Shanice’s grip on the wheel tightened as she made the turn, her headlights slicing through the dark until Danielle’s house came into view. Her stomach churned, but she pressed harder on the gas. There was no other choice.
She pulled to the curb, killed the engine, and turned to her children. Both were awake now, their faces pale and tired. “Come on,” she said softly, forcing steadiness into her voice. “Stay close to Mommy.”
They crossed the short walk together, Shanice guiding Tyriq Jr. with one hand while Kali clung tightly to the other. She raisedher knuckles and knocked, the sound ringing louder than she intended.
The door opened, and there stood Danielle, framed in the glow of the porch light.
Before Shanice could speak, Kali tugged hard at her sleeve, her eyes narrowing in recognition. Her voice came out in a trembling whisper that cut straight through the night.
“Mommy,” Kali said, pointing at Danielle. “That’s the lady who came to my school asking about Daddy.”
16- Busted
Danielle's smile froze, then collapsed at the edges like a soufflé touched too soon. The careful mask she'd constructed slipped away in an instant, revealing the face of a woman whose secrets had just been exposed by the most damning witness possible: a child who couldn't be persuaded to lie.
For a beat, nobody spoke. Then Kali’s small voice pierced the silence. “Mommy… did you hear me? That’s her. That’s the lady from school. The one asking about Daddy.”
Shanice’s stomach clenched as she gripped her daughter’s shoulder a little too tightly, her gaze cutting from Kali to Danielle. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Mommy. It’s her.” She pointed at Danielle, leaving no room for argument.
“Baby, what did she ask you? I don’t remember you ever telling me,” Shanice asked, her eyes laser-focused on Danielle.
“About Daddy," Kali said, her voice small but steady. “She wanted to know where he sleeps at night, and if he comes home to us. And she kept asking me weird questions, like if I look like him or if I got my eyes from another man.” Kali's brow furrowed, remembering. “She asked if I'm really Daddy's or if I belong to someone else.”
A vise clamped around Shanice's lungs, forcing air out in a thin hiss between her teeth. Her fingers peeled away from Kali's shoulder one by one, then coiled inward until her nails bit into her palm.
Her eyes locked on Danielle. “What the fuck possessed you to go to my child’s school and ask her if Tyriq’s her father? That is none of your fucking business!”
Danielle’s lips twitched into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re so damn gullible. Why the hell do you think I went to her school? I needed answers. Men lie. Tyriq lied, and you know that better than anyone.”
Shanice’s whole body was shaking with the effort not to lunge at her. “So you thought the answer was to corner my little girl? What the hell kind of woman does that?”
Danielle tilted her head, her smirk hardening into something meaner. “The kind of woman who refuses to play second to anybody. If I want the truth, I’m gonna get it by any means necessary, and you’re daughter was the one person I knew wouldn’t lie. Kids don’t know how to fake it.”
Blood rushed through Shanice's head so loud she could hear nothing else. Like puzzle pieces snapping together, she saw everything at once. The black SUV that had followed her for weeks, the packages on her doorstep, and her exhaustion from sleepless nights —all of it pointed to the woman standing before her. Questions she'd buried beneath layers of denial now cut through her thoughts with terrible clarity.
Was Danielle the one stalking her? Was she the one snapping photos through tinted glass and leaving blood-soaked body parts on her welcome mat?
The thought twisted in her gut, but it didn’t sit clean. Shanice remembered sitting across from Danielle inside her living room weeks ago, sipping coffee out of mismatched mugs while she explained she was Tyriq’s sister, and that she wanted to get to know her nephew. She had invited Shanice over, playing the role so well that she hadn’t thought to question it.
And for what? To get close to her children? To her? If Danielle wanted Tyriq so badly, why would she hurt him? Why send his ear in a box? Why carve him up piece by piece?
It didn’t make sense. None of this did. Wanting a man and destroying him didn’t live in the same breath. Unless Danielle was even sicker than Shanice had imagined.
Danielle watched Shanice's eyes darken and felt a flutter of victory in her chest. However, her shoulders tensed for the explosion that would surely follow. But instead of the screaming fit she'd expected, Shanice went utterly still, and her face hardened into the same granite mask her sister had worn when she learned her boyfriend had fathered Danielle’s child.
Shanice’s jaw locked. “You had me in your raggedy-ass house, sat across from me with that fake-ass smile, pretending to be Tyriq’s sister while my child sat at your feet like you gave a damn about him. But all you cared about was taking Tyriq for yourself.”
Danielle’s chin lifted, defiance sparking in her eyes. “I never swore I was his sister. You assumed, and I didn’t correct you.”
Shanice’s stomach twisted. “Correct me now.”
