Suddenly, fatigue slammed into him like a curtain dropping. His eyelids grew heavy. Natalie guided him to the couch with a “caring” hand.
When Ethan cracked his eyes open, Natalie was at his desk.
Typing.
On the screen: bank transfers. Numbers moving.
So that was it.
Something bumped his foot.
Under the desk lay the robot.
He picked it up, found the play button, pressed it.
Natalie’s voice filled the room—clear, unmasked.
“Nobody’s going to suspect anything. Tonight, documents done, transfer complete… and if those girls say a word, I’ll say they’re troubled. Who do you think they’ll believe—me or two kids?”
Ethan felt his face go numb.
Natalie turned, pale for a split second—then cold.
“Oh,” she said flatly. “The little spies.”
He stood.
“You starved them. Locked them in. Threatened them.”
She crossed her arms. “Discipline. You don’t know how to raise kids. You only know how to leave.”
Ethan clenched the robot until his hand hurt.
“Get out of my house.”
Natalie smiled—but it wasn’t pretty. It was dangerous.
“I can’t,” she said. “Not yet.”
A knock hit the back door.
Footsteps.
A tall man appeared—Ryan Cole. Confident. Familiar.
“Problem here?” he asked, like it was paperwork.