The next day, the house felt wrong. The housekeeper scrubbed dishes too hard. George paced. And in a pink bedroom full of unicorns, Lily hugged Emily’s pillow, breathing in the familiar scent.
“Where’s Em?” Lily asked that night.
Richard sat beside her.
“She had to leave.”
“Why?”
He swallowed. How could he explain that he’d listened to fear whispered by another woman?
“Sometimes adults make mistakes,” he said.
Lily looked at him steadily.
“You fired her.”
“I—”
“I heard you.”
His stomach dropped. “What did you hear?”
“Mrs. Hannah said Em wanted to steal. She said you shouldn’t trust her. And you agreed.”
Hannah Brooks—his former girlfriend, who had returned months earlier with polished smiles and subtle poison. She’d planted doubts, and he’d listened because it was easier than facing his own confusion.
“No,” Lily said firmly, sitting up. Her forehead burned with fever he hadn’t noticed. “She’s lying.”
That night Lily worsened. By morning, Hannah arrived, flawless as ever.
“I warned you,” she said gently, stroking Lily’s hair.
Lily opened her eyes.
“Don’t touch me.”
She turned to her father.
“Daddy… I saw something.”
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“I saw Hannah put Mommy’s necklace in Em’s suitcase.”