Chapter 1

The two pink lines on the pregnancy test felt like a miracle.

Triplets.

My heart swelled with a joy so big it almost hurt. Mark, my new husband, a man as solid and dependable as the houses he built, was ecstatic.

Our small Southern town already buzzed with the news.

I was Sarah, the town librarian, and now, soon-to-be mother of three.

Life felt perfect, a sun-drenched dream.

Then, the whisper started.

"I hope Mommy Sarah likes the special cupcakes I made just for her."

The voice was sweet, childish, and it echoed directly in my mind.

Chloe. Mark' s ten-year-old daughter.

"I don't want her to think I'm not happy about the new babies..."

A cold dread, sharp and familiar, sliced through my happiness.

The nightmare.

It wasn' t just a dream, it was a memory, vivid and terrifying, of a life I' d lived before, or a future so certain it felt like the past.

Chloe, with that same innocent smile, offering me cupcakes.

Me, trusting, eating.

Then the fire in my belly, the loss, the darkness. Me and my unborn babies, gone.

I shook my head, trying to dislodge the vision. It was just a nightmare, a side effect of pregnancy hormones, maybe.

But the thought, Chloe' s thought, her chosen, projected thought, lingered in my head, as clear as if she' d spoken aloud.

"Sarah, honey, look what Chloe made for you!"

Mark' s voice boomed from the kitchen doorway. He beamed, holding a plate piled high with brightly frosted cupcakes. Chloe stood beside him, her eyes wide and innocent, a perfect picture of a loving stepdaughter.

My stomach churned.

"Oh, Mark," I gasped, pressing a hand to my mouth. "I... I suddenly feel awful. Morning sickness, I think. It just hit me like a truck."

Mark' s smile faltered. "Oh, sweetheart, sit down. Can I get you some water?"

"Maybe you should try one, Daddy," I said, my voice a little shaky. "They look so good, and I' d hate for them to go to waste if I can' t manage one right now."

Chloe' s head snapped up. Her innocent mask flickered.

Panic flashed in her eyes, real and raw, before she quickly smoothed it away.

"No, Daddy!" she cried, her voice suddenly shrill. She lunged forward, yanking the plate from Mark' s surprised grasp. "They' re only for Mommy Sarah! I made them special for her and the babies!"

The sudden movement sent a cupcake tumbling to the floor.

Buddy, our golden retriever, always underfoot, snatched up a fallen piece of frosting before anyone could react.

"Buddy, no!" Mark exclaimed, but it was too late.

A few minutes later, Buddy started whimpering. Then he was retching, his body trembling.

The trip to the vet was a blur of fear. The diagnosis came quickly: poisoning.

"It looks like some kind of common household cleaner got mixed into the frosting," the vet said, his brow furrowed.

Chloe burst into tears, loud, hiccuping sobs. "It was an accident! I was cleaning the counter... maybe some spray got in the bowl... I didn't mean it! I love Buddy!"

Her projected thoughts flooded my mind, a torrent of feigned remorse, childish fear, a desperate plea for forgiveness.

"Oh, my poor baby girl," Mark murmured, pulling Chloe into a tight hug. He looked at me, his face etched with concern for Chloe, for Buddy, for the whole awful situation. "It was just a terrible mistake, Sarah. She' s just a child."

I looked at Chloe, her face buried in Mark' s shirt, her small shoulders shaking.

But I knew.

Earlier that week, I' d been excited, talking loudly with Mark in the living room, Chloe supposedly doing homework nearby.

"Mark, with the profits from the new Henderson development, we should open substantial college trust funds. One for each of our three little boys."

I'd seen the flicker of something dark in Chloe's eyes from across the room before she' d quickly looked down at her book. Agitation.

Now, her projected thoughts, beneath the show of remorse, were colder. "Stupid dog. Almost ruined everything."

Mark was upset about Buddy, yes, but Chloe' s performance, her projected innocence, was already working on him.

I said nothing. I just held my stomach, a new, icy fear coiling around the warmth of my babies.

This was just the beginning.