My husband watched his mistress press her heel into my eight-month pregnant belly and smiled over his wine. He didn’t know my father was about to walk through the door.

Court was a nightmare.

Not because it was hard.

But because it was too easy.

Daniel showed up with his lawyer—some slick guy in a tailored suit who looked like he’d stepped out of a car commercial.

Daniel himself was wearing a navy suit.

Hair perfectly combed.

Looking every bit the successful, wronged husband.

He even had the nerve to smile at me when I walked in.

Like we were old friends.

Like he hadn’t planned to have me murdered two nights ago.

The hearing lasted forty-five minutes.

Arthur presented the evidence.

The photos from the hospital.

The police report.

The fake DNA test.

The security footage of Marcus dropping off the sample at the lab.

The recordings.

He didn’t present the gun.

Or the hit list.

Or Mendez.

Not yet.

Arthur wanted Daniel to think this was just a divorce.

Just a messy, ugly divorce.

And it worked.

Daniel’s lawyer tried to object.

Tried to say it was all taken out of context.

Tried to paint me as an unstable, hormonal wife who’d attacked Vanessa and framed her husband.

But the judge was a woman in her sixties who’d seen every trick in the book.

She didn’t buy it.

Not for a second.

“Mr. Carter,” she said from the bench. “I’ve been doing this for thirty-two years. I’ve seen husbands lie. I’ve seen wives lie. But I have never, in all my time on the bench, seen a man orchestrate something this vile against his own pregnant wife.”

She banged her gavel.

“Temporary restraining order made permanent. No contact whatsoever with Ms. Carter or her family. Ms. Carter is awarded exclusive use of the marital home, all vehicles, and full access to all joint financial accounts. Temporary sole custody of the unborn child is granted to the mother. Mr. Carter, you will surrender all firearms to the Harris County sheriff’s department within twenty-four hours. Failure to comply will result in immediate arrest. Do I make myself clear?”

Daniel’s face was purple.

He stood.

“Your Honor, this is outrageous—”

“Sit down, Mr. Carter,” the judge said. “Or I’ll hold you in contempt.”

He sat.

Glaring at me.

Hating me.

“Court adjourned.”

The gavel banged again.

Arthur closed his briefcase.

“Told you,” he said quietly.

My father put his arm around me.

My mother squeezed my hand.

We walked out of the courtroom.

Daniel and his lawyer were right behind us.

In the hallway, Daniel broke away.

He stepped in front of us.

His lawyer grabbed his arm.

“Daniel, don’t—”

“Get off me,” Daniel snapped.

He looked at me.

His eyes were black with rage.

“You think you won,” he said. His voice was low. Only we could hear. “You think you got everything. But you have no idea what’s coming, Olivia. You and your rich daddy and your fancy lawyers. You think you can destroy me? I’ve only just begun.”

My father stepped between us.

“Back off, Daniel.”

Daniel smiled.

It was the same smile from the dining room.

Cold.

Empty.

“Tell your security team to sleep with one eye open, Henry,” he said to my father. “Tell them to watch the roads. Watch the grocery store. Watch the nursery. Because when I come for what’s mine… I won’t be alone.”

Two uniformed bailiffs were there in seconds.

They pulled Daniel back.

“Let’s go, sir,” one said.

Daniel let them lead him away.

He looked back at me over his shoulder.

And mouthed two words.

Soon.

Baby.

I stood frozen.

My hand on my stomach.

My father was already on the phone.

“Triple the guards,” he said into it. “I don’t care what it costs. I want eyes on her twenty-four seven. And find Carlos Mendez. Now.”

We left the courthouse through a back exit.

Two security cars followed us home.

My mother didn’t stop holding my hand the entire drive.

“I want to go to the house,” I said when we pulled up to my parents’ gate.

“Olivia—” my father started.

“I need to get my things,” I said. “My books. My baby’s clothes. The ultrasound pictures. All of it. And I need to see it. I need to walk through that house one more time and know he can never hurt me there again.”

My father hesitated.

Then he nodded.

“All right. But we go in numbers. Five guards. Front and back. Every room cleared first. You don’t touch anything until they say it’s safe.”

“Deal.”

We drove to my house.

The house Daniel and I had bought three years ago.

The one with the big kitchen where I’d learned to cook.

The nursery we’d painted together two months ago.

The dining room where my life had ended.

The guards cleared the house in ten minutes.

“All clear, Mr. Steel,” the head of security said.

I got out of the car.

Walked up the steps.

Opened the front door.

The house was exactly as we’d left it.

The dining room floor still had faint stains from the broken wine glass.

The sideboard was still scuffed where Vanessa had hit it.

Everything else was perfect.

Too perfect.

Like nothing had happened.

I walked through the living room.

Ran my hand over the couch where Daniel and I had watched a hundred movies.

Up the stairs.

Past the nursery.

The door was closed.

I hesitated.

Then I opened it.

The walls were pale blue.

Daniel had painted them.

We’d spent three weekends on it.

Fighting over the exact shade.

Laughing when we got paint in each other’s hair.

The crib was in the corner.

The little blue blanket Vanessa had mentioned was folded over the rail.

I walked over.

Picked it up.

It was soft.

Smelled like new fabric.

I held it to my face and cried.

Not for Daniel.

For the life I’d thought we’d have.

For the father I’d thought my son would have.

For the little boy who’d never know what it was like to have both parents love him.

My mother found me there ten minutes later.

She didn’t say anything.

She just sat beside me on the floor and held me while I cried.

When I was done, she helped me pack.

We took everything.

Clothes.

Toys.

The rocking chair my grandmother had given me.

The ultrasound pictures taped to the fridge.

By the time we were done, the nursery was empty.

The house felt hollow.

Dead.

I stood in the front doorway one last time.

Looked back.

“Goodbye, Daniel,” I whispered.

Then I closed the door.

And didn’t look back.

We were halfway back to my parents’ house when my father’s phone rang.

It was Detective Alvarez.

I could hear her voice through the phone.

Sharp.

Urgent.

“Henry, we picked up Mendez an hour ago. He’s singing like a bird. Daniel didn’t just pay him to kill Olivia. He paid him to make it look like Vanessa did it. The plan was—Mendez kills Olivia, plants evidence on Vanessa, Daniel ‘catches’ her, calls the cops. Daniel gets the sympathy vote. Gets full custody. Gets to marry Vanessa and play the grieving widower who found love again. And Vanessa gets the death penalty.”

I felt sick.

“Vanessa knew?” my father asked.

“Mendez says she didn’t know anything. Daniel was going to frame her. The attack in the dining room? That was a bonus. It gave him a perfect motive for her. Everyone would’ve believed it. The jealous mistress snaps and kills the wife.”

Alvarez paused.

“There’s more. Mendez says Daniel paid him half up front. The other half was due today. After court. They were supposed to meet tonight. At an abandoned warehouse on the east side. Midnight.”

My father looked at me.