Kylie POV:
Jodie's small body trembled in my arms, her eyes wide with a terror that clawed at my soul. Julian's handprint, red and angry, marred her cheek. He had struck her. Again. In front of everyone.
"You little liar!" he'd screamed, his face a mask of pure fury. "You told them I hit you!"
He had just been confronted by his publicist, his carefully curated image shattering after Dr. Adams' s revelation. The media storm had been brutal. His sponsors were pulling out, his book sales plummeting. And his first thought, his first action, was to lash out at Jodie.
"Mommy, it hurts," Jodie sobbed, burying her face into my chest.
I held her tighter, my body rigid with a cold, protective rage. My gaze, ice-cold and unblinking, locked onto Julian. He was panting, his chest heaving, a flicker of something that might have been remorse, or perhaps just self-pity, in his eyes.
"Don't you ever," I said, my voice barely a whisper, yet it cut through the shocked silence of the room. "Don't you ever touch my daughter again."
Julian flinched, a surprised gasp escaping his lips. My eyes, I knew, held the weight of a past he hadn't lived, a future I would prevent.
Fanny, ever the opportunist, quickly stepped forward, her hand on Julian's arm. "Julian, darling, she's just trying to manipulate you. Don't let her poison your mind." Darryl, sensing an advantage, started to wail, rubbing a non-existent bruise on his arm. "She hit me first! Jodie hit me!"
Julian's brief flicker of guilt vanished, replaced by the familiar mask of anger. "See, Kylie? This is your problem. Your daughter is a menace. And you enable her!"
"My daughter is a victim, Julian," I stated, my voice rising. "A victim of your neglect, your gaslighting, and now, your violence." I remembered the prophecy, the chilling echo of what he had allowed to happen in the first timeline. "You don't just hurt with your hands, Julian. You hurt with your words, with your absence, with your twisted love."
I turned away, pulling Jodie along. I didn't look back at him. I couldn't. I had already seen his true face, and it was a monster.
"Kylie!" Julian called out, a desperate plea in his voice.
But it was too late. For him, anyway.
Fanny, ever vigilant, tugged at Julian's arm. "Julian, darling, don't let her get to you. She's just jealous. We're your real family now." Darryl, still sniffling dramatically, climbed onto Julian's lap, rubbing his face against Julian's expensive suit jacket.
"Julian," Fanny purred, her eyes narrowed at my retreating figure. "She thinks she can just take your daughter and ruin your career. You can't let her win."
Julian, caught between his crumbling public image and Fanny's manipulative comfort, hesitated. His gaze flickered towards me, then back to Fanny. The choice was clear.
Fanny, seeing his hesitation, leaned in close. "Remember what we talked about, Julian? Your legacy. Your brand. Don't let a crazy ex-wife and a difficult child destroy everything you've built." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I know how much you loved her once. The real one. The one you lost."
A pang of betrayal, sharp and unexpected, pierced through me. Fanny knew about Julian' s past, about his first wife, the "angel" he always compared me to. The ghost he had tried to replace with me.
Fanny's eyes, filled with a cold, calculating malice, met mine. You think you can win, Kylie? You think you can escape me?
I knew then: she wouldn't stop. She would fight me with every manipulative trick in her arsenal. She would seek to destroy me, just as she had helped Julian destroy Jodie in the past.
I will make you regret this, Kylie Gutierrez, her silent vow echoed in my mind.
Jodie rested her head on my shoulder, her small body still trembling. We were safe, for now, in Dr. Adams' s small, home office, the scent of antiseptic and lavender filling the air.
"She has bruising consistent with a slap to the face, and some minor swelling behind her ear," Dr. Adams said, her voice gentle as she examined Jodie. "But the emotional trauma is more concerning."
Jodie sat quietly, her eyes distant, her movements slow and hesitant. The vibrancy, the spark, had been extinguished.
"We can't leave yet, can we?" I whispered, my heart heavy.
Dr. Adams shook her head. "Not until Jodie is stronger. And not until we ensure your safety. Julian will retaliate."
I stayed by Jodie' s side, day and night, watching her sleep, her small chest rising and falling rhythmically. She would wake with nightmares, thrashing and crying out for me. Each time, I would hold her, whispering reassurances, promising her a better future.
Julian, true to form, made frequent, public appearances. He would arrive with a bouquet of flowers, a teddy bear, and a somber expression for the cameras. He would try to talk to Jodie, to coax her into his arms, but she would just shrink away, her eyes empty, her small body stiff with fear.
"See, Kylie?" he would say, his voice dripping with false concern. "She's traumatized. She needs professional help. I've found an excellent facility for her. A therapeutic boarding school."
I knew what that meant: a place where "problem children" were hidden away, forgotten. A place where Jodie would be broken, not healed.
"No, Julian," I would say, my voice firm. "She's staying with me."
Fanny, meanwhile, seethed with jealousy, watching Julian's public performances. She saw his attention, however feigned, as a threat to her own position. She watched me, her eyes filled with a cold, calculating malice.
One afternoon, Fanny approached me, a sickly sweet smile on her face. "Kylie, darling, I know you're struggling. Perhaps you'd like a little break? Darryl and I are going to the park. Jodie can come too, if you like. Julian would be so pleased to see them bonding."
My gut twisted. "No, thank you, Fanny. Jodie is still recovering. And she's not going anywhere with Darryl."
Fanny' s smile faltered. Her eyes narrowed. "Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't offer."
Later that day, Jodie, feeling a little stronger, took her first tentative steps out of the room. She walked down the hallway, her small hand clutching mine.
Suddenly, Darryl burst out of his room, a wild look in his eyes. He charged at Jodie, a wicked grin on his face. "Tag! You're it!"
He slammed into her, hard. Jodie, still weak, stumbled backward. Her small hand, in a desperate attempt to brace herself, grabbed onto his shirt.
Darryl let out a piercing scream, a theatrical, ear-splitting shriek. He twisted his body, and then, in slow motion, he tumbled down the stairs, a grotesque parody of a fall.
Julian, who had been on the phone, his back to the stairs, spun around. His eyes widened in horror. Fanny, who had been lurking in the shadows, rushed forward.
"My son!" Fanny shrieked, her voice filled with feigned terror. "Jodie pushed him! She tried to kill him!"
Darryl, now lying dramatically at the bottom of the stairs, whimpered. He held up his arm, revealing a perfectly healthy, unblemished forearm. Fanny quickly pinched him, leaving a red mark that looked suspiciously like a bruise. "See! She attacked him! She's a monster!"
"Jodie didn't push him!," I yelled, my voice raw. "He ran into her!"
Julian, his face a mask of primal fury, stormed towards me. "You little demon!" he roared, pointing at Jodie. "You tried to hurt my son!"
"She's not your son, Julian! She's your daughter!" I screamed, shielding Jodie with my body.
He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh. "You are a danger to this family, Kylie! Both of you!"
Then, he did it. He raised his hand, and this time, he struck me. Hard. A searing pain exploded across my cheek.
Jodie, witnessing the violence, let out a terrified scream. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her small body went limp.
"Jodie!" I shrieked, cradling her. My vision blurred, tears mixing with the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.
Julian, seeing Jodie unconscious, faltered. A flicker of panic crossed his face.
"Get out!" I choked out, my voice trembling. "Get out of our lives!"
He backed away, his face a mixture of rage and fear. "You'll regret this, Kylie! You'll never see her again!" He pulled out his phone, already dialing. "I'm calling the authorities! She's a danger to herself and others!"
I knew what he was doing: setting the narrative, painting me as the unstable one. I had to get Jodie out. Now.
I scooped Jodie into my arms, ignoring the throbbing pain in my cheek. "We're leaving, baby," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "We're leaving this nightmare."
I ran out of the house, my heart pounding like a drum. I hailed a taxi, desperate to get away.
But it was too late. He had already called.
A black SUV screeched to a halt in front of the taxi, blocking our path. Two burly men, dressed in intimidating black suits, emerged.
"Kylie Gutierrez?" one of them asked, his voice flat. "We have orders to bring you and the child in for a full psychiatric evaluation."
I clutched Jodie tighter. "No! You can't! She's sick!"
Julian appeared, his face once again composed for the public eye. A small crowd had gathered, drawn by the commotion.
"Thank God you're here," he said, his voice dripping with false concern. "My wife, she's had a complete breakdown. She believes I'm abusing Jodie. She's delusional." He gestured at my bruised face. "She even hit herself, trying to frame me."
The crowd murmured, their eyes filled with a mixture of pity and judgment. Julian, the compassionate life coach, was once again playing the victim.
"She's lying!" I screamed, my voice raw with desperation. "He hit me! He neglects Jodie! He's a monster!"
But my words were drowned out by Julian's soothing voice, his practiced concern. "It's okay, darling. We'll get you the help you need. For Jodie's sake."
The men in suits gently but firmly took Jodie from my arms. I fought, I screamed, I clawed at them, but they were too strong.
"Mommy!" Jodie cried, her small voice fading as they carried her away.
"Jodie!" I shrieked, my heart tearing in two.
Julian smiled, a cold, triumphant smile that sent shivers down my spine. "It's for the best, Kylie. You'll thank me later."
I was dragged into another car, my body limp with despair. The last thing I saw was Julian, standing tall and victorious, waving at the cameras, his perfect public image restored.
