Chapter 6 - My Brother's Voice ChangedI called Ian the next morning.

His treatment center transferred me to a common-room phone.

He sounded better than he had in months.

Clear.

Present.

Almost like himself.

Until I mentioned the closet.

Then something disappeared from his voice.

“Dad said you knew Mom was punishing Lizzy after your calls.”

“I knew Mom was strict.”

“That isn't what I asked.”

Ian exhaled.

“Natalie, I'm trying to stay sober. I can't do this over the phone.”

“Your daughter slept behind a latched door.”

“I didn't know that.”

Too fast.

The denial came before I'd accused him of knowing.

I sat down.

“What did you know?”

“I knew Mom was doing timeouts.”

“In a closet?”

“No.”

A pause.

Then, quietly:

“I thought she stopped.”

I stopped breathing.

“What did you just say?”

“I didn't mean—”

“Yes, you did.”

The line went silent.

A staff member's voice sounded faintly in the background.

Ian lowered his voice.

“Nat, please don't tell the caseworker something you don't understand.”

That sentence changed everything between us.

I had spent seven months defending him.

When relatives called him irresponsible, I reminded them addiction was an illness, not a moral failure.

When Mom said Lizzy needed stability more than she needed her father, I argued that recovery was part of being her father.

Now he was asking me to protect information.

The same way Dad had.

The same way Mom expected everyone to.

“Ian, what happened?”

“I need to talk to you in person.”

“You don't get to control the timing anymore.”

“Natalie—”

I hung up.

Later that day, Denise visited our house.

I told her about the call.

All of it.

She wrote without reacting.

When she finished, she said, “Thank you.”

I hated those words.

They sounded like I had just moved my brother farther away from getting his daughter back.

Maybe I had.

That evening, Adam found me standing in Lizzy's doorway after she fell asleep.

“You did the right thing,” he said.

“I spent months thinking Ian was the one person in this family who would always choose her.”

Adam looked toward the bed.

“Maybe he wants to be.”

“That isn't the same as doing it.”

From inside the room, Lizzy shifted beneath the blanket.

Then she murmured something in her sleep.

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“Tuesday.”

The next morning, I asked Denise to compare Lizzy’s school absences with Ian’s call schedule.