The Secrets Hidden in My Daughter Bed and the Husband Who Lied
I looked at the window at the end of the hallway.
It was a small double-hung window, but Nathan had fitted it with heavy security latches.
I knew the glass was impact-resistant.
“Let us out, Nathan,” I said, my voice cracking.
“If you love Lily, you will let us leave.”
“Because I love her, I cannot let you take her out into the dark,” he said.
“You are not stable right now, Sarah.”
“You are projecting your own stress onto our family.”
He reached out a hand, his fingers long and clean.
They were the hands of a surgeon who never slipped.
“Give me the keys, Sarah.”
“No,” I said.
I backed away from him, pulling Lily toward the guest room at the far end of the hall.
This was the room where his mother, Eleanor, was currently staying.
I needed a room with a solid lock on the inside, somewhere I could think.
We hurried past the bathroom, and Nathan didn’t try to grab us.
He only watched us walk away with a cold, analytical curiosity.
I opened the guest room door, pulled Lily inside, and slammed it shut behind us.