Chapter 3: The Woman in the Second House

By sunrise, I knew the address.

Ashland.

Forty minutes from Lincoln.

Janet refused to let me go alone.

“You just had major surgery.”

“I don’t care,” I said.

Because now pain had a different shape.

Not physical.

Strategic.

We arrived just after 6:30 a.m.

The house looked like something from a magazine.

Cream siding.

Black iron fencing.

A nursery visible through a wide front window.

Inside, I saw it.

Two cribs.

Pink blankets.

A rocking chair I had once picked out in a store with Daniel.

My stomach twisted.

Janet grabbed my wrist.

“Carolyn… wait.”

But I was already walking.

The front door wasn’t locked.

That was the first mistake.

Inside, the house was warm.

Too warm.

Like someone had been living there for a while.

Then I heard it.

A voice upstairs.

Lindsay.

Soft.

Calm.

“You don’t need her.”

Pause.

“You have everything you need right here.”

My hands curled into fists.

Step by step, I climbed the stairs.

The nursery door was open.

Lindsay stood between the cribs.

Not surprised.

Not afraid.

Waiting.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

I looked at my daughters.

Safe.

Breathing.

Alive.

Then I looked at her.

“You used my money to build this place,” I said.

She smiled slightly.

“No,” she corrected.

“Daniel did.”

Behind me, Janet had already called someone.

I didn’t ask who.

I didn’t need to.

Because Lindsay finally stepped aside from the crib.

And I saw it.

A folder.

My name on it.

Stamped.

Filed.

Prepared.

Emergency custody petition.

Already submitted.

Already signed.

And as I stood there in the middle of a house built to replace me…

My phone rang again.

Daniel.

This time, I answered.

His voice was calm.

Almost satisfied.

“You saw it.”

I looked at Lindsay.

At the nursery.

At the life he tried to steal.

“Yes,” I said.

“I saw everything.”

A pause.

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Then he said the words that made my blood turn cold.

“Then you know you already lost.”