Chapter 2
I walked over, wanting to give the little girl a hug.
But she darted behind her brother, like a startled fawn.
The other kids instinctively took a step back, their eyes wary.
This wasn't how normal kids acted.
Victor quickly stepped in to ease the tension.
"They're a little shy. They'll warm up to you soon," he said.
He walked over and ruffled his eldest son's hair.
"Lucas, take your brothers and sisters to wash up for dinner," Victor said.
"Yes, Father," Lucas replied stiffly.
Then he led his four siblings to the bathroom, marching in perfect order like a tiny army.
My heart sank a little more.
Dinner looked like something straight out of a royal feast.
The long table was covered with exquisite dishes.
Victor poured me a glass of red wine and went on and on about how wonderful his life with Emily was.
He talked about their ski trips to the Silver Peaks and their vacations at Azure Bay.
He kept bragging about how successful his business was and how outstanding his kids were.
Emily kept smiling, nodding along every now and then.
She kept piling food onto my plate, fussing over me like I was the guest of honor.
But she barely touched her own food.
The kids were so quiet that it was almost unsettling.
They nibbled at their food, not even a peep coming from any of them.
Nobody chatted, and nobody messed around.
Victor's voice was the only thing filling the room, bouncing off the walls.
I tried to break the strange atmosphere.
"Emily, do you remember? When we were kids, you couldn't get enough of Mom's braised pork belly," I said.
Emily's gaze wavered for a moment.
"Really? It's been so long, I can hardly remember," she murmured.
Victor jumped in right away. "Braised pork belly is way too greasy. It's not healthy at all. Emily likes Westland cuisine now, isn't that right, honey?"
He glanced at Emily, his gaze making it clear she had no choice.
"Yes, I do," Emily murmured.
She lowered her head, barely whispering.
Seeing her go along with everything, I felt a wave of anger rise up inside me.
"Emily, after all these years, haven't you ever missed home?" I pushed.
"Of course I have," she replied.
She replied instantly, like she'd been practicing that answer for ages.
"But the kids are still so young, and they can't be without me. And Rose City is so wonderful. I'm used to it now," she said.
Her words were seamless, perfectly scripted, leaving no room for doubt.
But under the table, I caught her hand clutching the napkin so hard her knuckles were white.
I could barely eat anything, my appetite completely gone.
After dinner, the maid, a middle-aged woman, silently cleared the table.
Victor took the kids off to the study, saying it was time for their nightly reading.
At last, it was just me and Emily alone in the living room.
I jumped at the chance.
"Emily, be straight with me. Are you really okay?" I asked.
Emily froze, and for the first time, her perfect smile finally cracked.
She looked away, avoiding my eyes.
"Charlie, what are you talking about? Of course I'm doing fine," she said.
"Then why don't you ever come home? Mom and Dad miss you so much," I insisted.
"I..." she started, but her voice trailed off.
But before she could say another word, the study door swung open.
Victor was standing in the doorway.
"Honey, the kids want you to tell them a story," he said.
He still had that gentle smile on his face.
But Emily sprang to her feet, like she'd received a command.
"Alright, I'm coming," she replied.
She managed a strained smile for me.
"Why don't you watch some TV? I'll be back soon," Emily said.
She hurried off to the study without looking back.
That night, she never came back.
I sat alone in the massive living room, lost in my thoughts until it was way past midnight.
When midnight finally rolled around, I made my way upstairs, passing by their bedroom door.
The door was shut tight.
I pressed my ear to the door, trying to catch any sound from inside.
Suddenly, I heard a muffled, agonized whimper.
It was so faint, so brief, like the cry of a wounded animal.
Then came a cold, angry voice in Westland.
After that, everything went dead silent.
My blood ran cold in that instant.
The next day, the sun came up like always.
When Emily walked into the dining room, she was back to her flawless hostess act.
Her makeup was flawless, like she was wearing a perfect mask. There wasn't a hint that anything was off.
I thought maybe that whimper I heard last night was just something I imagined.
The silence at breakfast was almost suffocating, just like every other day.
Victor said he had an important meeting that morning and hurried off after we finished eating.
Once Victor left, the air in the villa felt a little lighter.
Emily's smile looked a bit more genuine, like she could finally breathe.
"Charlie, the weather's great today. Let's take the kids out to the garden and have some fun," Emily said.
The garden was huge, filled with roses in full bloom.
The sun was shining, and it felt warm on my skin.
The kids chased each other around the lawn, but they didn't make a sound, no yelling, no laughter, nothing like normal kids.
It was like they were just going through the motions, not really having fun.
Emily sat on the swing, cradling her youngest daughter in her arms.
She hummed a Westland nursery rhyme I'd never heard before, and for a second, she actually looked like a real mom, soft and gentle.
I sat next to her, watching, my feelings all over the place.
I wondered if I was overthinking.
Maybe Emily was just living abroad, and all the new customs and culture had made her more cautious.
Maybe those five quiet kids were just really well-trained.
Maybe that whimper last night was a minor argument between Emily and Victor.
I was almost fooled by the cozy scene in front of me.
"Mommy, spin me around," the little girl in her arms said in a sweet, babyish voice.
Emily stood up, holding her daughter, and started spinning her around on the lawn.
Her dress twirled, her hair streaming behind her.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows across her.
She laughed, her voice clear and bright, like a silver bell.
In that moment, she looked like a living painting.
I couldn't help but take out my phone, wanting to capture this beautiful moment forever.
Just then, Emily slowed down, a little out of breath from all the spinning.
She paused, a little out of breath, and bent down to place her daughter gently on the lawn.
It was an ordinary, everyday move.
But in that split second, her flowy cream-colored dress hitched up a bit at the back as she bent over.
It lasted only a heartbeat.
The sunlight hit that bare patch of skin right.
I saw it.
I froze, like I'd just been hit by a bolt of lightning.
That was no tattoo.
And it wasn't a birthmark either.
On her pale lower back, there was a dark red burn mark, about the size of a hand.
It was a brand.