The kitchen wakes before I do.
Lights bloom softly along the counters, the glass cabinets breathing awake like lungs. Athena hums under everything—too low for anyone but me to notice. I stand barefoot on the cool floor, silk robe loose around my shoulders, watching Sienna through the reflection in the smart fridge door as she angles her phone just right.
“Good morning, angels,” she chirps to her livestream, one manicured hand resting on her stomach like a claim. “Pregnancy glow, or what?”
Her smile is perfect. Practiced. A smile that knows exactly how many people are watching.
I smile back in the reflection. Slower. Quieter. Like a woman still learning how to be herself again.
“Amara made me breakfast,” Sienna says, turning the camera toward me. “Isn’t she amazing?”
Amazing. That’s the word they use when they don’t know what else to say about you anymore.
I step into frame. My hair is loose, my face bare, the picture of fragile recovery. The woman who survived a car crash and forgot pieces of her life like they were rooms she never liked anyway.
“I found a recipe online,” I say softly. “Good for energy. And the baby.”
The private chef—Julian insisted on him after the accident, though we both know who he really reports to—hands me the glass. Pale beige. Thick. Innocent-looking.
Sienna’s eyes flick to it, then back to the camera. “See? Sisters take care of each other.”
Sisters. I think of the way she wrote on my mirror. Of how Athena saved it even after she wiped it away.
She lifts the glass and drinks.
The chat explodes with heart emojis.
I feel something tighten in my chest, sharp and almost painful. Not guilt. Not fear.
Control.
Julian is late. He always is when he’s trying to prove something. I’m rinsing the blender when the front door slides open and his voice fills the house—too loud, too cheerful.
“There’s my favorite girls.”
Sienna squeals and rushes to him, still holding her phone, still live. He kisses her. Not for the camera. For himself.
His mouth brushes hers.
I freeze.
Five minutes later, the house screams.
Julian’s face drains of color as if someone reached inside him and turned a dial. His hands claw at his throat. The livestream tilts wildly as Sienna drops the phone.
“Oh my God,” she shrieks. “Julian—Julian, breathe!”
I’m already moving.
Athena unlocks the medical cabinet before I ask. The injector is cold in my hand. My fingers are steady. They’ve always been steady when it mattered.
“He’s allergic,” I say, loud enough for the chef, for the cameras that are definitely still recording somewhere. “Severe.”
Sienna collapses to her knees, sobbing. “He tried to get rid of the baby,” she wails. “He said it was ruining everything—”
Lies pour out of her like blood.
I kneel beside Julian. His lips are blue. His eyes are wild, terrified. For the first time since I’ve known him, he looks small.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, pressing the injector to his thigh.
I count in my head. Not too much. Never too much.
His body jerks. Air slams back into his lungs. He gasps, chokes, collapses into shaking breaths.
Sirens arrive. Strangers take over. Julian is lifted onto a stretcher, barely conscious, unable to speak. His eyes find mine as they wheel him away.
There is something there I’ve never seen before.
Fear.
At the hospital, Sienna holds court.
She cries to the doctors. To the police. To anyone who will listen. She produces photos—my handwriting, my words, dark and vicious.
I hate Julian. I hate her. They should disappear.
The date circled in red. Before the accident.
I don’t argue. I just look confused. Hurt. The way everyone expects me to look.
Back home, the house feels different. Like it knows the game has changed.
I lie in the medical pod, the lid closing over me with a soft hiss. White light washes over my skin. Athena’s voice fills the space, gentle as a lullaby.
“Would you like to hear the recording now?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Julian’s voice crackles through the speakers. Intimate. Familiar.
“Once she’s declared unstable, it’s easy,” he says. “The board will side with us. She won’t even remember fighting.”
Sienna laughs. “Just make sure she never remembers anything at all.”
My tears come fast and silent. Not because of them.
Because I loved him once.
Because I built this house believing love made people better.
Red and blue lights flash outside hours later. An officer explains, carefully, that for everyone’s safety, I can’t be near Julian right now.
Sienna watches from the stairs, victorious.
That night, Athena whispers one last thing before the lights dim.
“Analysis complete,” she says. “Sienna Rossi’s prenatal vitamins contain compounds inconsistent with standard supplements.”
I close my eyes, a smile curving my mouth in the dark.
She was never pregnant to save a life.
Only to destroy one.
And I am done pretending I don’t remember how.