"Be good. Listen."
As he spoke, his breath drifted lower.
I stared up at the darkness above me, then swung my hand hard across his face.
"Brother-in-law, are you trying to act out some twisted family drama?"
The slap cracked through the air, sharp and loud—snapping him out of whatever he was thinking.
In the faint moonlight, I saw him lick the blood from the corner of his lip. His expression seemed like a starved wolf denied its prey.
I met his gaze evenly.
"Clear-headed now? You can get off my bed."
After he left, I stumbled into the bathroom, flipping open the toilet lid.
But there was nothing in my stomach—only bitter acid came up, leaving me dizzy and shaking.
How could someone rot this quickly?
Just days ago, he'd been cheerfully making plans for the baby's arrival.
Now, calling himself "Terrence," he was sneaking into my bedroom in the middle of the night.
The nausea, starting from my gut, refused to fade. I collapsed onto the bathroom floor.
I didn't notice that, in the master bedroom, a tiny red light was blinking in the outlet—watching everything.
At the break of dawn, I was woken by noises coming from the living room.
"Nadine, you're here too?"