The next morning, Ethan acted normal. Breakfast. Natalie pouring coffee with steady hands. The girls silent, obedient in a way that scared him.
He knelt beside them.
“You’re going to school today, okay? Mrs. Carter’s class. I’ll pick you up.”
Natalie’s fingers tightened around her mug. “No. They should stay home. They’re still sick.”
Ethan smiled without smiling. “No. They’re going.”
Natalie didn’t argue. She just pressed her lips together—saving something for later.
In the car, Grace held her backpack tight. Inside was a toy robot—one that could record ten seconds of sound. She’d found it days earlier. Without fully understanding why, she’d pressed “record” while Natalie talked on the phone in the study.
Before getting out, Grace leaned close.
“Daddy… if something happens… find the robot.”
Ethan nodded, heart tight, and watched them hurry inside, glancing back like the door might bite.
Back home, Natalie followed him into the study with a tray.
“Coffee,” she said sweetly. “You look exhausted.”
He took a sip.
It tasted wrong.
Strong. Bitter. Off.
“It’s… intense,” he murmured.
“New brand,” she replied, not meeting his eyes.
Suddenly, fatigue slammed into him like a curtain dropping. His eyelids grew heavy. Natalie guided him to the couch with a “caring” hand.
When Ethan cracked his eyes open, Natalie was at his desk.
Typing.
On the screen: bank transfers. Numbers moving.
So that was it.
Something bumped his foot.
Under the desk lay the robot.
He picked it up, found the play button, pressed it.
Natalie’s voice filled the room—clear, unmasked.
“Nobody’s going to suspect anything. Tonight, documents done, transfer complete… and if those girls say a word, I’ll say they’re troubled. Who do you think they’ll believe—me or two kids?”
Ethan felt his face go numb.
Natalie turned, pale for a split second—then cold.
“Oh,” she said flatly. “The little spies.”
He stood.
“You starved them. Locked them in. Threatened them.”
She crossed her arms. “Discipline. You don’t know how to raise kids. You only know how to leave.”
Ethan clenched the robot until his hand hurt.
“Get out of my house.”
Natalie smiled—but it wasn’t pretty. It was dangerous.
“I can’t,” she said. “Not yet.”
A knock hit the back door.
Footsteps.
A tall man appeared—Ryan Cole. Confident. Familiar.
“Problem here?” he asked, like it was paperwork.
Ethan swallowed. “Who are you?”
Ryan didn’t answer that. He just smiled.