Chapter 5 - The CPS Visit
The knock on the front door came at 8:00 AM on New Year's Day.
Two caseworkers stood on the porch, holding clipboards and professional, guarded expressions. My heart dropped into my shoes. No matter how innocent you are, the sight of CPS at your doorstep triggers a primal terror in any parent.
"Mr. and Mrs. Miller? I’m Investigator Hayes, and this is my colleague, Ms. Vance—"
I nearly choked. Vance. Brenda Vance’s sister-in-law. The coincidence was too convenient to be accidental.
"Come in," Travis said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion, though his jaw was clenched so tightly I thought his teeth might shatter.
They sat at the dining room table—the very table where Zia’s place card had read Guest just a week prior. They asked standard, probing questions: Does Zia have her own room? Does she feel safe? Who provides her primary care?
Zia, sensing the tension, walked down the stairs wearing her favorite yellow sweater, clutching a stuffed rabbit. She stopped at the landing, her eyes wide with fear.
"Am I in trouble?" she asked softly.
Investigator Hayes softened immediately, offering a gentle smile. "No, sweetie, you're not in trouble at all. We just want to ask you a few questions about living here."
Zia walked over to Travis, wrapping her arms around his waist. Travis lifted her onto his lap, kissing her hair.
"You can ask me anything," Zia said bravely. "Do you want to see my bedroom? Dad painted the walls pink like I wanted, and I have a whole shelf for my books."
"We'd love to see your room, Zia," Ms. Vance said, flipping a page on her clipboard. "Has anyone in this house ever made you feel like you don't belong here?"
The room went dead silent. I held my breath, terrified that Lorraine’s psychological warfare had left a deeper scar than we realized.
Zia looked down at her hands, then up at Investigator Hayes.
"Grandma Lorraine did," Zia said clearly.
The caseworkers exchanged a sharp look. "What did Grandma Lorraine do, Zia?"
"She gave me a vanilla candle for Christmas and put a tag that said Travis's Girl instead of my name," Zia explained, her voice remarkably mature. "And at brunch, my place card just said Guest. She didn't want me to be part of the family."
"And how did that make you feel?"
Zia squeezed Travis’s hand tightly. "It made me feel sad. But my dad told me something important. He said people can choose how they treat you, but they don't get to choose whether you belong with the people who love you. And my dad chose me every single day."
Ms. Vance dropped her pen. Investigator Hayes looked down at her notes, visibly moved.
"Thank you, Zia," Hayes said softly, standing up and closing her folder. "Mr. and Mrs. Miller, we have all the information we need. This case will be closed immediately as unfounded and malicious reporting."
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As the caseworkers walked out the door, Travis pulled Zia into a fierce embrace. But outside, hidden behind the winter hedge across the street, a pair of binoculars lowered. Lorraine lowered them, her face twisted in pure, unadulterated hatred.
If legal channels wouldn't break them, she would have to resort to something much more destructive.
