Fiona’s hands shook as she grabbed her phone and opened the hidden-camera feed. Through the warm glow of the night-light, she saw her husband, Julian Whitfield, stepping quietly into Serena’s room. The door clicked closed behind him in a deliberate, controlled manner. Serena, half-sitting on her bed, shrank back instantly, her small frame rigid with fear.
Fiona unmuted the audio.
“Daddy… please don’t…,” Serena whispered, her voice tiny and terrified.
Fiona felt bile rise in her throat. Every maternal instinct screamed at her. Without hesitation, she yanked the blankets from her bed and sprinted down the hallway, bare feet slapping the wooden floor. Adrenaline surged, blending anger, terror, and determination into a single, explosive energy.
When she reached the bedroom door, her hands trembled as she gripped the knob. She pushed the door open with all her strength. Time seemed to freeze. Serena recoiled, tears streaking her cheeks, while Julian stumbled back, caught off guard. His face bore a mix of guilt and surprise.
“What are you doing?” Fiona demanded, her voice trembling but edged with steel.