Chapter 5: The First Strike**
The peace of the morning was shattered by the harsh ringing of Peter’s cell phone on the kitchen counter. He glanced at the caller ID.
**DIANE.**
Peter's jaw tightened. He looked at the kids. Drew had stopped chewing, his eyes wide with instant terror as he stared at the phone.
"Keep eating," Peter told them, forcing a calm smile. "I'm going to take this outside."
He grabbed the phone and stepped out onto the back patio, sliding the glass door shut behind him. He took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and hit accept.
"Where are they?" Diane's voice was shrill, manic, and slurred. "Peter, I swear to God, if you have them..."
"I have them," Peter said, his voice dropping an octave, cold and unyielding.
"You have no right! Bring them back right now, or I'm calling the police for kidnapping!" she shrieked.
"Call them," Peter challenged. "In fact, I'd love it if you did. It would save the CPS investigator the trouble of tracking you down. They took photos of Drew's knee, Diane. They took photos of Lily's ribs."
There was a sudden, sharp silence on the other end of the line. The bravado faltered. "Peter... you didn't."
"I did," he replied. "And my lawyer is filing an emergency custody order as we speak. You locked a seven-year-old and a five-year-old in a damp basement for two days. You are done."
"They're my kids!" she sobbed, a manipulative tactic Peter had seen a hundred times before.
May you like
"Not anymore," Peter said. "If you come near my house, I will have you arrested for trespassing. Get a lawyer, Diane. You're going to need one."
He hung up, blocking her number immediately. He stood on the patio for a moment, letting the residual anger wash over him. Then, he turned around, looked through the glass at the two small, fragile lives sitting at his kitchen table, and walked back inside to be their father.
