“In the flour container above the refrigerator.”

Despite everything, a stunned laugh escaped me.

Emily managed a weak smile. “Your mother never cooks.”

Then her expression became serious.

“There’s something else. I turned on the baby monitor before they came.”

“We haven’t installed it.”

“I placed the camera on the bookshelf last month. I thought we could test it before the baby arrived. It records to the cloud.”

My heart began pounding.

“Did it record tonight?”

“I think so.”

I pulled out my phone, downloaded the monitor application, and entered the password Emily gave me.

The footage loaded.

At first, the camera showed the empty living room.

Then the front door opened.

My mother entered with my sisters.

They did not behave like guests.

They moved like people searching a crime scene.

Brittany checked beneath couch cushions. Kayla opened drawers. Lily walked toward the hallway carrying a small screwdriver.

Then Teresa appeared in front of the camera.

Her voice was perfectly clear.

“Find the blue envelope before Ethan gets home. Once that baby is born, we lose our chance.”

My blood froze.

Brittany returned to the room.

“What happens if Emily already called the lawyer?”

“Then we make Ethan believe she is after the money,” Teresa replied. “He always chooses us when we make him feel guilty.”

Kayla laughed.

“What if she tells him we’ve been using the cards?”

“He won’t believe her.”

The footage jumped forward.

Emily entered the living room, demanding they leave the bedroom.

Brittany seized her arm.

Teresa stepped close enough that her face filled the screen.

“You will sign those papers,” she said. “Everything Ethan has belongs to this family. You and that baby are not taking it.”

Emily’s voice trembled. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“You know enough to become a problem.”

Then my mother ordered my pregnant wife to clean the kitchen.

Not because it needed cleaning.

Because she wanted to humiliate her.

I watched all twenty-seven minutes.

By the end, my hands were shaking.

Emily whispered, “I’m sorry.”

I looked at her in disbelief.

“For what?”

“For bringing all this into your life.”

I bent over her hospital bed and pressed my forehead against hers.

“You didn’t bring this into my life. You revealed what was already there.”

At four in the morning, after Emily finally fell asleep, I drove back to the apartment.

My family was gone.

So were several appliances, two suitcases from our closet, Emily’s jewelry box, and the television.

The living room was somehow messier than before.

I climbed onto a chair, opened the cabinet above the refrigerator, and pulled down the flour container.

Inside, sealed in a plastic freezer bag, was a thick blue envelope.

The return address belonged to Dunham, Price and Hale.

My fingers struggled to tear it open.

The first page was addressed to me.

Mr. Ethan Daniel Cole,

PART2