And people who feel entitled don’t stop when asked nicely.
The next morning, Ethan acted normal. Breakfast. Natalie pouring coffee with steady hands. The girls silent, obedient in a way that scared him.
He knelt beside them.
“You’re going to school today, okay? Mrs. Carter’s class. I’ll pick you up.”
Natalie’s fingers tightened around her mug. “No. They should stay home. They’re still sick.”
Ethan smiled without smiling. “No. They’re going.”
Natalie didn’t argue. She just pressed her lips together—saving something for later.
In the car, Grace held her backpack tight. Inside was a toy robot—one that could record ten seconds of sound. She’d found it days earlier. Without fully understanding why, she’d pressed “record” while Natalie talked on the phone in the study.
Before getting out, Grace leaned close.
“Daddy… if something happens… find the robot.”
Ethan nodded, heart tight, and watched them hurry inside, glancing back like the door might bite.
Back home, Natalie followed him into the study with a tray.
“Coffee,” she said sweetly. “You look exhausted.”
He took a sip.
It tasted wrong.
Strong. Bitter. Off.
“It’s… intense,” he murmured.
“New brand,” she replied, not meeting his eyes.