Chapter 3

The next time I was lucid, the horror deepened. I kept my eyes closed, my breathing shallow, feigning the deep unconsciousness of a man on the edge of death. I heard new footsteps enter my private room. A man with a raspy voice.

"Is he out?" the man asked.

"Completely," Nicole answered. "Here's the final payment. You did what you were paid to do."

"It was supposed to be a small fire," the man grumbled, his voice low and angry. "Just enough to scare people, create a tragedy for your campaign to rally around. A 'gas leak.' I didn't sign up for... this."

"You signed up for what I paid you for," Nicole snapped back, her voice devoid of any emotion. "And the objective was met. Lily is gone."

The man was quiet for a moment. "The little girl... she wasn't supposed to..."

"She was a political liability," Nicole cut him off, her words like shards of glass. "A constant reminder of a life I'm leaving behind. She was an obstacle to Caleb's inheritance. Now, she's a tragic story that will get me elected. A martyred daughter. It's perfect."

My world ended. The physical pain from my burns, from the surgery they were prepping me for, was nothing. It was a dull ache compared to the supernova of agony exploding in my soul. My wife. My Nicole. She had murdered our daughter. Our Lily.

They wheeled me into the operating room. I learned then that I have a rare tolerance to anesthesia. I was awake for most of it, paralyzed but aware. I felt the surgeon's knife. The searing pain was a distant storm. The only thing I could focus on was the image of Lily's face, smiling. To stop myself from screaming, from revealing I knew, I bit down on my own lip, hard. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth as I swallowed my rage, my grief, my entire world. I would not give her the satisfaction of knowing she had broken me. Not yet.