Chapter 1

In the ultrasound room, I heard two little voices arguing inside my belly.

One was soft and sweet. [Hey, don't squish me.]

The other was sharp and mean. [Move over. This is my spot!]

My heart leapt, and I blurted out to the doctor, "Is it twins?"

But instead of answering me, the doctor glanced past me at my husband, who was standing right behind my chair. Then he shook his head. "Mrs. Carline, you're mistaken. There's only one baby."

Vince, my husband, slipped an arm around my shoulders and chuckled. "Look at you. You're so happy you're imagining things."

Imagining? But I had heard it so clearly.

The mean little voice inside me sneered. [He knows better. If he said a word, Dad would make him pay for it.]

*****

When we got home, I sat on the sofa. The words "he knows better" kept echoing in my head.

Dad? Which dad?

I placed a hand over my belly. My palm was ice-cold. A terrible thought began to take shape in my mind.

Vince came over with a glass of warm milk and gently set it down beside me.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly. "Are you still thinking about twins? Don't overthink it. The doctor said there's only one, so let's just focus on keeping this one healthy."

His smile was tender, his eyes filled with affection—just like when I first met him.

I lowered my gaze, hiding the chill in my eyes, and picked up the milk.

[Fake!] The mean voice in my belly rang out again.

I lifted the glass and asked, pretending it was casual, "Vince, a friend of mine is pregnant too—she's having twins. Wouldn't it be nice if we had two babies?"

I kept my eyes on his face, trying not to miss a single flicker of emotion.

His hand, the one holding his own glass, froze for just a second—so fast that most people wouldn't have noticed.

"Twins are too risky," he said, still smiling, though his voice sounded tight. "I just want you and the baby safe and sound."

I looked down, a cold smile forming on my lips that he couldn't see.

So that was it.

That night, I lay in bed, pretending to be asleep.

Vince came in quietly, thinking I was out cold.

He stood by the bed for a long time—so long that I almost couldn't keep pretending.

Then I felt his cold fingers brushing against my belly.

It wasn't the touch of a loving father.

His movements were careful, deliberate—like he was measuring something, inch by inch, as if planning.

Every muscle in my body went stiff. I didn't even dare breathe.

Then I heard the soft, sweet voice crying. [Brother, I'm scared.]

The mean voice answered right away, soothingly, [Don't be scared. I'm here.]

Then, more quietly, he said, [You better stay quiet. Don't let him find out I'm here.]

My heart dropped.

Him? Who? Was it Vince? What exactly was he not supposed to find out?

Just then, Vince let out a soft sigh—one filled with regret. Then he turned and walked out of the room.

I opened my eyes and touched the spot where his hand had been. It was ice-cold.

*****

The next day, Vince told me that he had gotten me a new phone.

"It has less radiation. Better for the baby," he said with a smile.

I looked down at the phone—it was so outdated that it could only make calls and send texts. I sneered inwardly.

Less radiation, huh? Or easier for him to keep tabs on me?

He took my old phone and erased everything on it. "Out with the old, in with the new," he said lightly.

He did it so naturally, like he was just tossing out a piece of trash.

My heart sank lower and lower.

A few days later, Trista Carline, my mother-in-law and the lady of the Carline family, suddenly moved in with us.

She came with an entire entourage—a nutritionist, a nanny, and two bodyguards with expressionless faces.

She said it was all to take better care of me.

"Lizzie, from now on, all your meals will be prepared by Zoe. She's the best nutritionist for pregnant women," Trista said from the sofa, her tone leaving no room for discussion.

I glanced at Zoe. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her eyes sharp and cold.

From that moment on, my life was completely taken over.

I couldn't go out. I couldn't see my friends. The only world left to me was this house.

Vince came home every day. He'd ask how I was feeling, remind me to be careful, and talk about how much he cared.

But to me, every word of his kindness was laced with poison.

The mean baby seemed to sense the danger.

[This old woman's up to no good,] he muttered. [She's putting something in your soup. Not a lot at once, but she keeps adding it.]

My hand holding the bowl stayed perfectly steady. I even smiled sweetly at Trista. "Thank you, Trista. The soup is delicious."

As I drank, I watched her out of the corner of my eye. The corners of her mouth lifted in a satisfied smile.

I tilted my head back and finished every drop.

Then, I excused myself to use the bathroom. I rushed in, locked the door, and jammed my fingers down my throat until I threw up everything I had eaten.

Then I collapsed onto the cold floor, trembling.

I couldn't just sit here waiting for something to happen. I had to reach someone—anyone.

I remembered the spare phone I'd hidden in an old suitcase in the back of my walk-in closet.

When the bodyguards switched shifts, I slipped inside, locked the door, and dug it out.

Thank God, it still had power.

My hands were shaking as I dialed my best friend, Rita.

The phone rang only once before she picked up. "Hello? Lizzie?"

The sound of her voice nearly broke me. Tears welled up instantly. "Rita, I—"

Before I could finish, the closet door burst open with a violent kick.