Chapter 2 - The Thing Under the SwimsuitClara didn't make it more than three steps.
My father caught her wrist.
“What is under that suit?”
“Let go.”
“Clara.”
His voice had changed.
There was something in it I had never heard before.
Not anger.
Fear.
She twisted free and stumbled backward.
Everyone was staring.
Children had stopped splashing in the pool. Adults stood frozen around the patio, unsure whether they were witnessing a family argument or something much worse.
I looked at Glen.
“Call the police.”
Clara snapped her head toward me.
“No.”
That answer came instantly.
Too instantly.
Glen pulled out his phone.
Clara's face drained of color.
“Don't.”
I almost laughed.
A few minutes earlier, this had been a birthday party.
Now my stepmother was begging us not to call the police because my three-year-old daughter claimed my husband was trapped inside her stomach.
Nothing about that sentence made sense.
And yet every instinct in my body screamed that something was wrong.
Ariel tugged my hand.
“Mommy.”
“What?”
“Get the door.”
I looked down.
“Sweetheart, there isn't a door.”
She shook her head.
“Yes, there is.”
Then she pointed.
I followed her finger.
The black strip was still visible.
A zipper.
But it wasn't attached to the swimsuit.
It was underneath it.
Clara noticed me looking.
She crossed both arms over her stomach.
“Stop.”
“Why?”
“Because you're humiliating me.”
“Then explain the zipper.”
She stared at me.
Silence.
My father stepped forward.
“Clara.”
She closed her eyes.
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
Clara looked around at everyone.
Then at Ariel.
And something in her expression softened.
Not guilt.
Pity.
She looked at my daughter the way someone looks at a child who has unknowingly walked into a dangerous room.
“I didn't hurt anyone,” she whispered.
My heart stopped.
“Why would you say that?”
Clara said nothing.
Ariel suddenly cried out.
“He's knocking!”
“Who's knocking?” I asked.
“Daddy!”
She put her palm against Clara's stomach.
Clara recoiled as though Ariel had burned her.
And that was when I heard it.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
A tiny sound.
From inside Clara’s swimsuit.
Nobody laughed this time.
My father stepped backward.
Glen stared.
I couldn't breathe.
The tapping stopped.
Then came three more.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
A pattern.
Clara began shaking.
My father whispered, “What have you done?”
She looked at him.
And for the first time in fifteen years, I saw my stepmother cry.
“I was trying to protect you.”
My father's face collapsed.
“Protect me from what?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, she pulled the towel tighter around herself and whispered something I couldn't hear.
“What?”
I stepped closer.
She looked directly at me.
“He isn't your husband.”
I felt the world tilt.
“What did you say?”
Glen stared at her.
“Lady, you better explain that.”
But Ariel suddenly screamed.
“HE'S NOT DADDY!”
Everyone froze.
She pointed toward the house.
Then toward Clara.
Then toward the black zipper.
“That's the bad daddy.”
My blood turned cold.
Glen looked at me.
“What does she mean?”
I didn't know.
I wanted to say it was nonsense.
I wanted to tell everyone this was some ridiculous misunderstanding.
Instead, my eyes stayed on Clara.
“Who is inside?”
Clara started backing away.
Then her knees gave out.
My father caught her before she fell.
She looked up at him.
“Not inside me,” she whispered.
She reached for the zipper.
Her fingers trembled.
“Inside the device.”
She slowly pulled it downward.
Underneath the swimsuit wasn't skin.
There was a smooth black panel attached to her abdomen.
Wires.
Tiny lights.
A concealed compartment.
And in the middle of it…
A screen.
The screen flickered.
Everyone leaned closer.
A video appeared.
Glen was standing beside me.
But on the screen was another Glen.
Same face.
Same hair.
Same wedding ring.
Same voice.
The recording began with him whispering:
“Clara, if she ever finds out, we're all dead.”
Glen beside me went completely still.
I turned toward my husband.
He looked as shocked as everyone else.
Then the video continued.
And the man on the screen said something that made my blood freeze.
“Her daughter is the only person who can expose us.”
Ariel whimpered.
My husband stared at the screen.
I stared at him.
Then, slowly, he whispered:
“That isn't me.”
Clara looked up at him.
May you like
“I know.”
And then the lights in her hidden device began flashing red.
