Chapter 3

I sent back a thumbs-up sticker, and for a full week I kept using Hope's cup to feed the sow water.

That afternoon, Arnold called out of nowhere, his tone strange.

"Wendy, Mom says she misses you. She wants me to bring you home."

"She's in great spirits today. Says her chest doesn't hurt anymore. She even cooked a pot roast."

I gripped the phone tight.

A late-stage lung cancer patient, suddenly full of energy, cooking?

Was she trying to lure me back because she'd noticed something?

"I'm not coming back," I said, on purpose. "It's comfortable here. I want to stay until I give birth."

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. Then Arnold's voice went cold.

"Wendy, are you avoiding Mom?"

Had he figured something out?

My heart was pounding, but I forced a laugh. "How am I avoiding her? My morning sickness is just bad. I don't want to smell the grease from cooking."

"Then hang on to that cup," Arnold said, relieved. "Mom said, on the seventh day, you have to drink it at home. She wants to watch you drink it with her own eyes."

After I hung up, the anonymous account sent another message.

"The seventh day is the key. The moment midnight hits, as long as the sow drinks from that cup, the rebirth completes."

"But be careful. Your mother-in-law is already suspicious."

That night, half asleep, I dreamed someone was pressing down on top of me.

I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn't move, like a body pinned in sleep paralysis.

Hope's voice came in my ear, high and thin.

"Wendy, let me in…"

"My good daughter-in-law, open the door…"

I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue and shot upright.

The room was empty.

Hands shaking, I sent the whole thing to the anonymous account.

The reply came fast. "You didn't drink from the cup. She can't get into your belly."

"Tomorrow, she'll come herself."

I didn't sleep all night. At daybreak, a black sedan pulled up to my cousin's pig farm.

Hope Lambert got out, wearing a brand-new red padded coat, her cheeks flushed pink, nothing like a woman with a terminal illness.

She carried a thermal food jar, her eyes fixed straight on my belly.

"Wendy, Mom came to see you. I made you some soup."

I stared into her eyes.

"Mom, why are you here?" I backed away.

"Mom misses her grandson," she said, reaching a hand toward me.

"Come here, let Mom feel how big he's gotten."

She grabbed my wrist in one motion. It hurt so much I sucked in a breath.

But I felt her fingers rubbing over my belly, like she was sensing for something.

Then her face changed.

"That's not right…" she murmured, and jerked her head up to look at me.

"You didn't drink it?!"

I shook off her hand and turned to run for the pigpen.

Behind me, Hope let out a shriek.

"Stop right there!"

She was fast.

I bolted into the pen and locked the rail gate behind me.

The sow lay basking in the sun on the hay, the cup sitting beside her.

Hope pressed against the rail, her face squeezed out of shape, staring hard at the sow's belly.

"So that's it…"

She suddenly laughed, muttering to herself.

"You think that stops me? All I have to do is kill this pig, and I can pick a new vessel!"

She pulled a paring knife from inside her coat, climbed over the rail, and drove the blade into the sow's neck.

The sow screamed, blood spraying out.

I froze where I stood.

It was over.

If the sow died, Hope would go looking for another pregnant body.

And I was the only one who was pregnant.