Mother rolled her eyes.
“Contraband toast. Terrifying.”
Clara continued.
“Victor took it.”
He smiled.
“I was hungry.”
“You threw it in the trash.”
His smile widened.
“Same destination.”
Marissa looked sick.
Clara’s voice shook.
“Then he said if I complained…”
She stopped.
Victor spoke for her.
“I told her to imagine how quiet the house would be if Daniel came home and found out his wife couldn’t handle a baby.”
I stared.
He shrugged.
“Motivation.”
The same word.
Of course.
I looked at Mother.
They had been teaching each other.
Then Clara whispered:
“He said Noah could be raised without me.”
Victor stopped smiling.
I turned slowly.
“What?”
Clara tightened her arms around our son.
“He said your mother already prepared the upstairs nursery.”
Silence.
I looked at Evelyn.
Her face went still.
Ahí estaba.
El primer miedo real.
“¿Qué habitación de bebé?”
No dijo nada.
antwortete Marissa.
“Der Westflügel.”
Ich starrte.
Dieser Raum war sechzehn Jahre lang verschlossen.
Seit mein Vater gestorben ist.
Und laut allen in diesem Haus hatte es seitdem niemand mehr benutzt.
Mutter sprach schließlich.
“Du solltest es noch nicht wissen.”
