Chapter 2 - I didn't sleep that night.Neither did anyone else.
By 1:30 a.m., the nursery had become a crime scene.
Marco shut down access to the entire east wing.
Two armed men remained outside the nursery.
Another two guarded the hallway.
The doctors were sent home.
The nannies were questioned separately.
No one knew how the lullaby had played.
No one could explain the voice.
And no one could explain how Sophie had known about the wall.
Except Sophie.
I found her sitting downstairs in the kitchen at 2:17 a.m., eating strawberry yogurt while her mother stood beside her.
She looked completely calm.
Like she had not just terrified an entire house.
I sat across from her.
“Sophie.”
She looked up.
“Yes?”
“What did your daddy tell you?”
She spooned another bite of yogurt.
“Lots of things.”
“What things?”
She shrugged.
“He told me not to talk to bad men.”
I almost smiled.
“Did he think I was a bad man?”
She studied me.
“You're not the bad man.”
“Who is?”
She lowered her spoon.
“You know.”
“No, I don't.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Tell me.”
She shook her head.
“Daddy said if I told you too early, they would know.”
My spine tightened.
“Who would know?”
“The people upstairs.”
I glanced toward the ceiling.
“There are no people upstairs.”
Sophie smiled sadly.
“They're not upstairs.”
“Then where?”
She pointed toward the floor.
“Under us.”
I stared at her.
Marco entered the kitchen.
He had the same worried expression he'd worn when he discovered the hollow wall.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We opened it.”
I stood.
“What did you find?”
“Nothing.”
The word surprised me.
“Nothing?”
“The cavity was empty.”
Marco hesitated.
“But there was something inside.”
He placed a photograph on the table.
It was old.
Burned around the edges.
Three men stood outside a warehouse.
I recognized one immediately.
Caleb.
The second was Marco.
And the third was me.
Except the picture had been taken eleven years earlier.
I had forgotten it existed.
Marco placed another photograph beside it.
A woman stood behind us.
My wife.
Lucia.
She was younger.
Smiling.
And pregnant.
I stared at the photograph.
“That wasn't possible.”
Marco nodded.
“She was six months pregnant in this picture.”
“My triplets were born eight months ago.”
“I know.”
“That picture was taken eleven years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then whose pregnancy is that?”
Marco didn't answer.
I looked at him.
“Find out.”
He nodded.
Then Sophie spoke from the table.
“That was the first babies.”
I slowly turned.
“What?”
She pointed to Lucia's stomach.
“Those babies.”
My mouth went dry.
“Sophie, what does that mean?”
She suddenly looked toward the hallway.
Her smile disappeared.
“They're coming.”
“Who?”
She grabbed the doll.
“The men Daddy was hiding from.”
Marco immediately drew his weapon.
The house went silent.
Then the security alarm screamed.
Not the exterior alarm.
The underground one.
My entire body went cold.
I had no underground alarm.
At least not one I knew about.
Marco stared at the security tablet.
“Basement access.”
“What about it?”
His fingers moved across the screen.
“It just opened.”
“Who has access?”
“Only you.”
“And?”
He looked at me.
“Your wife.”
Silence.
Marco swallowed.
“Sir…”
The alarm stopped.
Then all the lights in the house went out.
Someone screamed upstairs.
The emergency lights came on thirty seconds later.
Marco grabbed his weapon.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
I followed him.
We reached the basement door.
It was open.
Inside, the air smelled damp.
Cold.
Metallic.
The old elevator at the far end of the basement was illuminated.
Its doors were open.
I had never seen that elevator before.
There were no buttons.
Only a single fingerprint scanner.
Marco looked at me.
“Boss…”
I put my thumb against it.
The machine beeped.
The doors opened wider.
Inside was a small room.
On the wall hung a digital monitor.
Three numbers appeared.
08:31.
08:31.
08:31.
The exact birth times of my triplets.
Then a line of text appeared.
WE WERE WAITING FOR YOU.
The elevator doors closed.
The monitor changed.
A live image appeared.
My nursery.
The three babies were sleeping.
Someone was standing beside their cribs.
A woman.
Long black hair.
White nightgown.
Her back was turned toward the camera.
I couldn't breathe.
Because the nightgown was the same one Lucia had been buried in.
The woman slowly turned.
The image distorted.
The screen went black.
Then Sophie screamed from somewhere behind us.
“Daddy!”
I ran upstairs.
Sophie was standing in the hallway.
Her doll was lying on the floor.
Her face was white.
“What happened?”
She pointed toward the nursery.
“The woman came back.”
“Who?”
Sophie looked at me.
“Mommy.”
My entire world stopped.
May you like
Then she whispered:
“And she told me you're not their father.”
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