"No!" I lunged for the door, but he slammed it shut in my face.
I heard the heavy lock click into place.
I hammered my fists against the thick wood, screaming his name, screaming for my baby, screaming until my throat was raw and tasting of copper. But no one answered. The house was a fortress, and I was trapped inside it.
I collapsed against the door, sliding down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. The blue gown was ruined, torn at the shoulder, stained with my tears. The drugs in my system were pulling me down, trying to drag me into a forced sleep.
I had to stay awake. I had to think.
Why would Sarah do this? Why would she risk everything to frame me so maliciously?
I crawled away from the door, dragging myself toward the back of the massive closet where a small, plush ottoman sat. I rested my head against it, trying to fight the dizziness. As I shifted, my hand brushed against something hard and plastic hidden beneath the edge of the ottoman.
I frowned, reaching under the fabric.
My fingers closed around a small, black, rectangular device. I pulled it out into the dim light of the closet.
It was a baby monitor receiver.
We hadn't used these in months. Ethan had insisted on installing a high-tech smart camera system linked directly to his phone, claiming the old radio monitors were insecure.
I stared at it. The green power light was on. It was set to channel two.
I pressed the volume button, holding the speaker close to my ear.
For a moment, there was only static. And then, a voice cut through the white noise. It was crisp, clear, and coming from the nursery down the hall.
It was Sarah.
"She's locked in," Sarah’s voice said, entirely devoid of the panicked, trembling tone she had used downstairs. She sounded calm. Bored, almost.
Then, Ethan’s voice replied.
"Good. The bruise on her face will help sell the narrative that she became violent and I had to restrain her. Did you make sure her prints are the only ones on the iron?"
My heart stopped. The breath vanished from my lungs.
"I wiped the handle before I handed it to her," Sarah replied, her voice smooth and businesslike. "She took it perfectly. She's so drugged up she didn't even realize what was happening."
"Perfect," Ethan said. "Dr. Aris is on his way. He has the commitment papers ready. Once she's admitted under a psychiatric hold, the grandfather’s trust transfers full control to me as Leo's sole guardian. We just need to keep her locked in there until the transport team arrives."
I sat in the dark closet, the small black box shaking in my hands.
My husband. My protector. The father of my child.
He hadn't been tricked by Sarah. He hadn't been fooled by her theatrical performance downstairs.
He was the one directing the play.
And if I didn't get out of this room before the transport team arrived, I was going to lose my baby, my freedom, and my life, forever.
CHAPTER 2
The revelation hit me like a physical blow to the stomach.
I dropped the baby monitor onto the thick carpet as if it had burned my hand. My mind, previously clouded by the heavy, drugged tea, suddenly sharpened with a cold, terrifying shot of adrenaline. The fog was burning away, replaced by the sheer, unadulterated instinct of a mother fighting for her survival.
Ethan. It had been Ethan all along.
Every misplaced set of keys, every door left open, every time I swore I hadn't taken my medication but found the pill bottle empty—it wasn't postpartum psychosis. It was a calculated, daily psychological torture designed by the man who shared my bed. He had been slowly poisoning my reality, building a mountain of documented "erratic behavior" for his expensive, hand-picked doctor to validate.
And Sarah was his accomplice.
I leaned my head back against the wall of the closet, forcing myself to take deep, silent breaths. I couldn't afford to panic. Panic was exactly what Ethan needed to finalize his narrative. If I was a screaming, hysterical mess when Dr. Aris and the transport team arrived, I would be handing them the exact evidence they needed to lock me away.