Chapter 1 - The Fever
I opened my bedroom door just a fraction of an inch.
The hallway was dimly lit, but I could clearly see Victoria and Avery standing near the entryway. They were not wearing weekend loungewear. Avery was zipping up a lavender chiffon bridesmaid dress. Victoria wore a tailored silver gown, a matching fascinator pinned into her perfectly lacquered hair. They were dressed for a wedding.
"Did Grayson say what time the photographer wants us?" Avery whispered, slipping into a pair of silver heels.
"Seven-thirty for family portraits," Victoria replied, adjusting her diamond tennis bracelet. "He's sneaking out at six. He told Lauren he has an emergency breakfast meeting for the virtual conference. Just hurry up and get to the car before she wakes up."
My chest seized. The air in my lungs turned to ground glass.
Grayson hadn't just taken a photo with another family. He was marrying the woman. Today. In our city. And his mother and sister—the women who ate my food, lived in my house, and smiled in my face—were actively participating in the execution of my marriage.
I closed the door silently.
I didn't confront them. I didn't scream. The maternal instinct that overrides panic suddenly flared to life, cold and absolute, pulling me toward my son's room.
I opened Jack’s door. The moment I stepped inside, I felt the heat radiating from his small bed. I rushed over and touched his forehead. He was burning. His skin was dangerously hot, his breathing shallow and rapid, his small chest working too hard.
May you like
"Jack," I whispered, shaking his shoulder gently. His eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. He couldn't even lift his head.
I didn't wake Grayson. I didn't want the man who was currently dreaming of his second bride to touch my child. I wrapped Jack in a thick blanket, grabbed my keys, and walked out the back door into the freezing October rain, leaving the house of liars behind me.
