The man I had married, and the sister I had grown up beside, had spent nearly a year quietly building a machine designed to take my house, my money, and my children, all at once.

And they had been so close to finishing it.

Chapter 8 — Fiona Was Starting to Talk

“And locking Fiona in the kitchen?” I asked.

“Why now?

Why did it escalate to that?”

Ivan pointed to a series of recovered messages on his screen — texts between Blake and Danielle, synced, carelessly, to the family’s shared tablet, where anyone who knew to look could find them.

“Because Fiona was starting to talk,” he said quietly.