Chapter 2

The clinking of a fork against a plate. The murmur of happy voices. The warmth of a fireplace.

I gasped, my eyes flying open.

I was back at the inn. Mark was on one knee, the ring box open. Leo was beside me, beaming. And Lily... Lily was kneeling, tears in her eyes.

"Please, Sarah," she pleaded, her voice a perfect imitation of angelic longing. "I've wanted a mom for so long. We can be a real family. We can go on hikes and explore old cabins together."

Hikes. Old cabins.

The words hit me like a physical blow. The memory of venom, of my son's last terrified whimper, flooded my senses. My skin crawled.

Lily reached out and took my hand. Her touch was cold, clammy. Like a spider.

I recoiled, yanking my hand back as if I' d been burned. I shoved myself away from the table, away from her.

"No," I said. The word was flat, devoid of emotion.

Mark stared at me, his face a mask of confusion and hurt. "Sarah? What's wrong?"

"No," I repeated, my voice louder now, harder. "I'm not ready for a new family. And I don't enjoy dangerous outdoor activities."

I looked directly at Lily. Her angelic face faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of cold fury in her eyes before the mask of sorrow snapped back into place.

Mark's mother, sitting at the next table, stood up. "Sarah! How can you be so cruel? After everything Mark has done for you!"

"She's just a little girl!" his brother added, pointing at the now sobbing Lily.

Lily's performance was masterful. She fell to her knees, clutching her father's leg. "Please, Sarah! Don't do this to Daddy! He's so happy! Please don't leave us!"

The onlookers murmured, their sympathy flowing to the poor, rejected child. I was the villain. The cold-hearted woman breaking a perfect family's dream.

I leaned down, getting eye-level with the kneeling girl. My voice was a low whisper, meant only for her.

"You're a very good actress, Lily. But I'm not interested in being your next victim."

Her eyes widened, the mask slipping completely. For a breathtaking moment, I saw the same malevolent intelligence I' d seen outside the tent. The same coldness.

Then it was gone. She just looked like a confused, heartbroken child again.

I straightened up, grabbing Leo's hand. "We're leaving."

"Mom, why?" Leo asked, confused and on the verge of tears. "I want Lily to be my sister."

"Leo," I said, my voice firm but gentle, "sometimes pretty things are the most poisonous. Like some mushrooms in the forest. They look beautiful, but if you eat them, they'll kill you. Lily is like one of those mushrooms."

He looked from my face to the crying girl on the floor. He didn't understand, but he saw the resolve in my eyes. He squeezed my hand.

"Okay, Mom."

As I walked out of the inn, I could feel Lily' s eyes on my back. It wasn't the gaze of a sad little girl. It was the patient, watchful stare of a predator.