Chapter 1
“What did you do to my wife that I can’t even imagine?”
Evelyn stopped moving beneath the tilted nursery display.
For the first time since I entered the room, my mother looked afraid.
Noah was against my chest now, his cries weakening into exhausted hiccups. Clara still lay beside the bassinet while Marissa knelt near her, shaking so badly she could barely keep two fingers against Clara’s wrist.
Victor groaned beneath the collapsed linen trolley.
I ignored him.
“Marissa.”
She looked at me.
“Tell me.”
Evelyn snapped, “She’s hysterical.”
Marissa flinched.
That reaction contained history.
I turned toward my mother.
“Speak again before she finishes and you leave this house without knowing when you’re allowed back.”
Silence.
Good.
Marissa swallowed.
“Clara hasn’t slept properly in two days.”
My chest tightened.
“She’s six days postpartum.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
“That’s why I tried to stop it.”
“Stop what?”
Marissa looked toward the dining room.
“The Sixth Night Supper.”
I had never heard of it.
Victor suddenly tried to stand.
One bodyguard pushed the trolley frame off him and held him where he was.
I looked at my mother.
“What is that?”
Evelyn lifted her chin.
“A Carter tradition.”
Of course.
Whenever cruelty needs better clothing, families call it tradition.
Marissa continued.
“Mrs. Carter made Clara get dressed yesterday morning. She told her a Carter wife serves the senior family on the sixth night after giving birth.”
My jaw tightened.
“How long was she standing?”
Marissa began crying.
“Hours.”
I looked at Clara.
Torn robe.
Hospital wristband.
Barely healed from an emergency delivery.
And my mother had made her serve dinner.
Evelyn scoffed.
“Women in this family have done it for generations.”
I stared at her.
“Then generations were wrong.”
That landed.
But Marissa was not finished.
“She tried to sit down twice.”
My voice became quieter.
“What happened?”
Marissa looked at Evelyn.
“She took Noah away.”
Everything inside me went cold.
Not shouted at Clara.
Not insulted her.
Took the baby.
Used my newborn son as leverage to keep his mother standing.
I stepped toward Evelyn.
“What did you tell her?”
My mother said nothing.
Marissa answered.
“She told Clara she could hold Noah again when dinner was properly served.”
Noah moved against my chest.
Six days old.
Already turned into a reward.
Then Clara stirred on the floor and whispered one word.
“Daniel…”
I dropped beside her.
Her eyes opened.
And the first thing she asked was not where she was.
May you like
It was:
“Where’s my baby?”
