Chapter 2

Forty minutes after I left our anniversary dinner, I unlocked the front door of our house alone. Grace was still at the hotel with Conrad. I went upstairs to pack her overnight bag before he brought her home.

The door beside her bedroom stood open.

That room had been our son's nursery. Conrad had kept it locked for three weeks, saying a pipe had leaked. I had not asked to see the damage.

Now a white bassinet stood beneath the window. New baby clothes filled the shelves. Someone had taken our son's name from the wooden letters above the crib and arranged them inside a box on the floor.

Sienna's hospital bag sat in the corner.

I tried to lift it. The strap slipped from my hand twice before I dragged it into the hallway.

The front door opened downstairs.

Grace ran up first. Conrad followed with Sienna, one hand under her elbow.

"Why is she coming here?" I asked.

"Photographers are outside her apartment," Conrad said. "She is close to delivery. The guest suite is the safest place for her."

"This is not the guest suite."

He looked into the nursery.

"The room was empty, Vivian."

"It was our son's room."

"It has been two years. Keeping the door closed has not brought him back."

Grace stopped beside the staircase.

I pressed my nails into the hospital bag strap and lowered my voice.

"Go pack your pajamas, sweetheart. We will stay somewhere else tonight."

She looked at Conrad.

"You are not taking her anywhere," he said. "Not after what happened downstairs."

"There is no order stopping me."

"There should not need to be. She saw you on that stage."

Sienna stepped into the nursery and picked up a wooden letter from the floor.

"I told Conrad we should wait," she said.

He turned toward her.

"You did nothing wrong."

Neither of them said that to me.

Grace backed into her bedroom.

"Mom, I want to stay here tonight."

I released the bag. It fell beside our son's boxed name.

"Okay," I said. "I won't make you leave."

Inside Grace's room, her school tablet lit up with a new message. I picked it up to silence it.

The school contact page was already open.

My notifications had been turned off three weeks earlier. Beneath Conrad's name, Sienna Vale had been added as an authorized guardian and emergency pickup.

The date beside her approval was eight months old.

Conrad had not brought another woman into our family that night. He had only stopped hiding how long she had already been there.

For seven years, he had conditioned everyone to see me as the fragile, medicated patient.

Looking at that approved page, the sharp sting in my palm from my fingernails finally cleared my head. He wasn't caring for a sick wife. He was digging my grave.

If he wanted a madwoman, I would give him one.

Tomorrow, we would find out whose mask cracked first.