Chapter 2

My mind was a thick fog. I was aware of things happening around me, but they felt distant, like a movie playing on a far-off screen. I remember police officers, their voices low and serious. I remember paramedics covering my children with white sheets. I remember being led into the living room and wrapped in a blanket.

I sat on the sofa, staring at nothing. The blanket was warm, but a deep, permanent cold had settled into my bones. It was a cold that would never leave.

Liam was nowhere to be seen.

His mother, Mrs. Thorne, sat beside me, her hands twisting in her lap.

"Ava," she began, her voice trembling. "I... I am so, so sorry."

I didn' t look at her. I couldn' t look at anyone. I just kept seeing their faces, blue and still.

"He didn' t mean for this to happen," she whispered, her words a desperate plea. "He told the nanny to just leave them out for a few minutes. Just to teach them a lesson. He never... he would never..."

Her voice broke.

The mention of a nanny barely registered. I knew Mary, the young woman we sometimes hired, wasn't there last night. It was just me and Liam. Just us and the children.

My mind started to clear, the fog burning away to reveal the sharp, agonizing edges of reality. I remembered Liam' s words from the basement. A fitting tribute to my deceased father. He had meant for this to happen. He had planned it.

A new feeling rose through the grief, something hot and sharp. Rage.

"I have to call the police," I said, my voice a broken croak. "I have to tell them what he did."

I tried to stand, but Mrs. Thorne grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong.

"No, Ava, please," she begged, tears streaming down her face now. "Please don' t. He' s my son. He' s all I have left."

I stared at her, uncomprehending. "He murdered my children. Our children."

"He' s not thinking straight! He' s been consumed by this... this hatred for your family for years. It' s twisted him. But he' s not a monster, Ava, he' s not."

The memory of my children's frozen bodies flashed in my mind.

"Yes," I said, my voice dead. "He is."

"Please, Ava," she sobbed, her whole body shaking. "Think of everything our families have been through. Think of how my husband... Liam' s father... helped your parents when they were just starting out. He gave them the loan that built their first store. Your family owes us. Please, spare my son."

Her words hit me like a physical blow. She was using a long-forgotten kindness as a shield for a murderer. She was asking me to trade my children' s justice for an old debt.

The injustice of it was suffocating. I felt a wave of dizziness wash over me. The room started to spin.

Just then, Liam' s phone, which he had left on the coffee table, buzzed. A message lit up the screen. It was from a contact named 'Chelsea.'

The message was clear on the bright screen.

"Heard about the accident. Don' t worry about that bitch. When are you coming to see me? The baby and I are waiting."

The baby.

He has a mistress.

She' s pregnant.

He wasn' t home grieving. He wasn' t in shock. He was with her. While our children lay dead, he was with his pregnant mistress. And she was calling me a bitch.

The last thread holding me together snapped. A blackness rushed in from the edges of my vision, and the world dissolved into nothing.