Page 37 of Daddy's Christmas Rescue
Alvarez nodded. “Yes, ma’am. The signatures were digital copies. Our forensics team matched the original samples and confirmed they were falsified, and that with Mr. O'Keefe's statement confirms it.”
Samuels added, “Mr. Hale was picked up at Bangor International, trying to board a private jet. Your parents were still at their residence packing documents when the warrant team arrived.”
Blake let out a quiet, rough breath beside me. I could feel the tension rolling off him — relief and anger twisted together.
“They’re going to prison?” I asked softly.
Alvarez gave me a look that was equal parts sympathy and honesty. “They’ll be arraigned within forty-eight hours. It’s a complex case, but with the evidence we have, yes they’ll face serious time.”
For a long moment I couldn’t speak. The fire crackled. Biscuit whined softly and nudged my leg.
“I thought they’d get away with it,” I finally said.
Blake’s voice came from beside me, steady and low. “Not this time.”
Samuels nodded toward him. “You did the right thing getting her clear of that house, Mr. Weston. I can’t comment on how you got the intel, but it helped ensure her safety.”
Blake only said, “She didn’t belong in that mess.”
The detectives exchanged a brief look. Alvarez handed me a card. “If you need updates or a victims’ advocate, call this number. You need to get your own lawyer as I have no idea what assets or finance will be left. There’ll probably be a court statement at some point, but you’ll be protected. And, Miss Turner, you’re free to stay wherever you feel safe.”
Free.
The word didn’t fit at first. It just hovered there, too big, too bright. I nodded and took the card with shaking fingers. “Thank you.”
"She'll be here," Blake rumbled with decision. When the door closed behind them, I just stood there staring at the toys still open on the rug, the pastel house, the tiny figures, unable to comprehend everything.
Blake turned toward me, his expression unreadable, jaw tight. “Are you okay?”
I nodded automatically, but my throat burned. “I don’t know. I should feel happy, right?”
He stepped closer, brushed a piece of hair from my face. “You will. When it sinks in.”
“They’re really gone?”
“They’re gone,” he said. “They can’t hurt you again.”
The detectives had barely driven away when the house went too quiet. I could tell by the way Blake watched me that he thought I was going to break.
And maybe I was.
My parents. Arrested. Vincent. Caught. My name, forged. My whole life a fraud I hadn’t even known I was living in. It should’ve been a relief. Instead, it felt like being hollowed out from the inside.
“They really did it,” I whispered.
“Yeah,” Blake said softly. “It’s over now.”
I took a step back, then another. “All I ever wanted was for them to love me,” I said. “Just once. Just enough to make it real.”
“Holly—”
“They never did,” I snapped, my voice cracking. “And I was so stupid, thinking maybe if I tried hard enough, they’d see me. But they didn’t. I wasn’t a daughter, I was a signature. A tool.”
My breath hitched. I swiped angrily at my cheeks. “And now? Now they’re gone, and I’m supposed to feel free, but I just feel—” I gestured wildly at the dollhouse and the stuffed animals still in their boxes. “Pathetic. Like some broken little girl who doesn’t know how to be normal.”
Blake took a careful step forward, but I kept talking, words spilling too fast. “You keep buying me things like these, and it just makes me feel worse! Like I’m some project for you to fix. Like I’m not even a woman to you, just someone you pity.”
The silence that followed was awful. My heart thudded in my ears.
