Chapter 1

The day I came home from the hospital after my miscarriage, my husband Morton James had already hired a young nanny, Charlene Chavez.

"She's from the countryside. Hardworking, doesn't talk much. She'll take care of you through your recovery."

Two weeks in, the imported mangosteen had turned into rotting potatoes, the premium green grapes into wilted cucumbers.

I told myself she was just used to being frugal. Then I found her social media.

【What kind of wife eats mangosteen every day? Loses a baby and still acts like the little princess. Who does she think she is?】

She'd even posted a photo of a pair of gray underwear, captioned: 【Every night once she's asleep, her husband climbs up to the attic to be with me, and she has no idea!】

My fingertips went cold. I kept scrolling.

Down to her replies in the comments.

【He and I are the ones who grew up together. If it weren't for the money, he'd never have married that jinx!】

My stomach turned over. I forced the hatred down behind my eyes and dialed the contractor.

"Tonight, seal every vent with insulation foam. The quieter you work, the better."

A hundred and four degrees. You two can sit in there and enjoy it.

...

The words had barely left my mouth when Morton pushed the door open and walked in.

I jerked so hard my phone dropped onto the bed.

His brow furrowed, a flicker of suspicion crossing his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Charlene steamed this custard for you herself. It's good for you."

The custard gave off a warm scent.

But all I could think of was what she'd written in her post, about spitting in my food.

My stomach heaved. I felt sick enough to throw up.

"I don't want it."

Morton's face went cold in an instant.

He pressed the rim of the bowl to my lips. "This is when you need the nutrition most. You have to finish it."

I looked past him, to Charlene at the far end of the hallway.

The corner of her mouth curved up.

Then, just as quickly, she rearranged her face into something caring.

This custard, I had no choice but to eat.

Morton took the empty bowl, satisfied, and ruffled the loose hair at my temple.

Once he'd left, I threw all of it up into the trash can.

Then I crept out on tiptoe.

Through the gap in the door, I saw Charlene nestled against him, eating sea cucumber like some delicate little thing.

That was the sea cucumber my mother had someone buy for me from a coastal city three thousand miles away!

I couldn't even bring myself to eat it, and he'd handed it all to Charlene!

I clenched my fists, my whole body shaking with it.

Sweat slid down my forehead.

"Charlie, I know it's hard on you. I upped it by two extra sleeping pills, plus the hallucinogen. Let Miriam Dickerson keep eating a while longer and her body will be finished. Then this house is ours!"

Something dropped in my chest.

The second day after I came home from losing the baby, Morton had shown up with two bottles of imported medicine I couldn't read, calling it something to help me recover, telling me to take it every day.

Whenever he had a spare moment, he'd cook for me himself.

And I'd been naive enough to think he actually wanted to take care of me.

No wonder I'd been sleeping more and more these two weeks, always dizzy and nauseous.

He'd been drugging me the whole time.

Charlene broke into a grin, one hand cradling her lower belly.

"She'd never dream of it. Her baby's barely gone, and now I've got one."

"It's a gift from heaven. The baby, the house, all of it should be mine!"

The smile in Morton's eyes deepened, his palm settling tenderly against her stomach.

I dug my nails into my fists, my breathing growing heavier, my eyes stinging.

I thought of the child who never got to be born.

Morton didn't deserve to be a father at all. I would make him and Charlene both pay.

Heat surged up all at once. My vision swam, and I staggered back two unsteady steps.

I brushed against the vanity mirror without meaning to.

The smile froze on Morton's face. He whipped his head around.

"Who's there?"