When she saw me standing in the doorway, all the color drained from her face so fast it was almost frightening.
“M-Mr. Daniel… I…”
I didn’t hear the rest.
Everything inside me narrowed to one point.
I crossed the room in two long strides and dropped to my knees beside Lily. I pulled the filthy rag out of her trembling hands. Her fingers were swollen and raw, the skin along her knuckles cracked and irritated. Her forearms were red, as if she had been scrubbing for hours without stopping.
“Lily… hey… look at me… please… I’m here now…”
But she didn’t react the way I had imagined over and over in my head.
She didn’t collapse into me.
She didn’t cry against my chest.
She recoiled.
She shuffled backward on her knees, clumsily, both arms wrapping protectively around her belly as if I might be a threat too.
“No… don’t take me… please… I’ll behave… I promise… don’t take my baby…” she choked out between sobs. “I’m not crazy… I swear I’m not…”
Something inside me cracked so violently I felt it in my chest.
I turned my head slowly toward Ashley.
She was already standing.
“Sir, you don’t understand,” she said, her voice slipping into that practiced tone of concern. “Your wife has been unstable for weeks. I’ve been trying to manage her condition. She becomes aggressive, confused… sometimes she doesn’t even recognize reality. I’ve done everything I could to help—”
“Be quiet.”
My voice came out low. Too calm.
Ashley hesitated.
“Mr. Daniel, if you’d just let me explain—”
“I said be quiet.”
I took off my jacket and wrapped it around Lily’s soaked shoulders. She was shaking uncontrollably. Not from cold.
From fear.
“Hey… hey… it’s me,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not taking you anywhere. I’m not letting anyone hurt you again. I swear.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“But… Ashley said you couldn’t stand me anymore… that you were embarrassed of me… that you were already talking to doctors… that you were going to sign papers before the baby came…”
Each word hit like a blade.
I turned slowly toward the coffee table.
That’s when I saw it.
A beige folder.
I hadn’t noticed it when I came in.
I opened it.
Inside were printed articles about prenatal psychosis, clinic forms, highlighted paragraphs, and a falsified document with my name listed as the primary contact.
The date.
Three days ago.
My stomach dropped.
This wasn’t just cruelty.
It was a plan.
Ashley took a step back.