Chapter 3

"That's not true, Jessie," I said, my voice calm, a stark contrast to her rising hysteria.

"It totally is!" she yelled, her face flushed. "You're just jealous that I love them more than you! You're trying to sabotage my relationship with my real family!"

Michael looked from Jessie's furious face to my strangely composed one. "Jessie, calm down. If the weather is bad..."

"She's making it up!" Jessie insisted, tears welling in her eyes. "She doesn't want me to be happy!"

She grabbed the handles of the heavy suitcases, the ones filled with trash. "Fine! I'll go myself! I'll take a bus, or a rideshare. I don't need you!"

She wrestled the bags towards the front door.

"Jessie, wait!" Michael started, but I put a hand on his arm.

"Let her go," I said quietly.

He stared at me, bewildered. "Sarah, what's gotten into you? She can't go out in this if a storm is coming."

Jessie flung the door open and stormed out, dragging the "gifts" behind her. The door slammed shut, rattling the frame.

Silence descended. Michael turned to me, his face a mask of confusion and concern. "Sarah? What was that all about? Chest pains? And letting her go like that?"

I took a deep breath. The charade was over, at least with him.

"Michael," I began, my voice trembling slightly now that Jessie was gone. "We need to talk. Urgently."

I led him to the kitchen, sat him down. "I had a dream last night. No, not a dream. It was... it was a memory. A premonition. It was terrifyingly real."

His brow furrowed. "A nightmare?"

"It was us, Michael. Lily. This house. A blizzard, just like they're forecasting. Jessie... she brought her biological family here."

I recounted the horror, my voice low and urgent, painting the picture of Frank, Brenda, and her brothers, their greed, their violence. I told him about Lily. About him. About what they did to me.

"They killed Lily, Michael. They killed you. They left me to die. And Jessie... Jessie chose them."

He looked pale, shaken. "Sarah, that's... that's horrible. But it was a dream, sweetheart."

"It felt too real," I insisted, gripping his hand. "The details, Michael, things I couldn't have imagined. And Jessie, this morning... it was starting. Just like before." My voice cracked. "The most important thing is Lily. We have to protect Lily."

His skepticism warred with the raw fear in my eyes, my genuine terror for our daughter.

I saw a flicker of understanding, of fear, in his own.

"Okay," he said slowly. "Okay, Sarah. What do we do?"

Relief, sharp and immense, washed over me.

First, Maria. I called her. "Maria, I'm giving you a large bonus. I need you to go home, right now. Buy everything you need for at least two weeks – food, water, batteries. A terrible storm is coming. Please, stay inside, stay safe. Don't open your door to anyone."

Maria, ever trusting, simply said, "Yes, Mrs. Miller. Thank you. God bless you."