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A fter the call with the detective, I decided to wait for Sloane to discuss our next steps with the world and with Angie.

In the meantime, I spent the night quietly with the kids. Liam disappeared into his room to video chat with the band guys he liked to practice with, while Violet was already setting up her game.

I lingered in the hallway outside of her room for a moment, listening to the soft clatter of her keyboard, the faint hum of her computer. Then I walked in, trying to sound casual.

“Hey, Violet. Wanna play together?”

Her face lit up before a flicker of suspicion crossed it, as if my sudden interest raised a red flag. “Sure, Dad. But that’s pretty sus.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Fair. But let’s play anyway. You can show me around.”

She nodded and scooted over to make space.

I logged in beside her with my work laptop, and for the next couple of hours, we built a castle together out of digital blocks in a virtual world.

She taught me the controls, the map, the quirks of the server.

I made sure to ask questions to get her talking.

But I also kept an eye on the voice channel, listening for anything out of place; conversations that dipped too far into the personal or any other red flags.

I always had my eyes scanning for that one specific username: Prince_Harming.

It was just a game. But I knew how people could use ‘just a game’ to worm their way in.

That night, I memorized every detail I could. Not only the layout of the castle or the crafting recipes, but the way her voice softened when she felt safe, the ease in her laugh when I struggled to move my character.

It was surprisingly relaxing and maybe a little ironic that I was both a builder in real life and now, also, in my daughter’s digital world.

There was something therapeutic about it.

Placing blocks, crafting walls, creating shelter out of nothing.

Violet and I worked side by side, and for a while, it felt like the world outside that glowing screen didn’t exist.

Eventually, bedtime rolled in. I glanced at the clock and gave the gentle reminder that had somehow become routine again.

“Alright, you two. Time to start winding down.”

Violet groaned but logged off without a fight, which I took as a small miracle. Liam was already tucked into his audiobook, earbuds in.

I made the rounds, turned out the lights, checked the locks, felt myself linger a second too long at each of their doors.

Damn, that was a good night with the kids.

Sloane walked into the kitchen around midnight, her hair pulled into a messy bun, face pale and pinched from another long shift.

She didn't notice me at the dining room table at first; she had immediately focused on reviewing the kids’ school packets on the counter.

The low swish of the dishwasher filled the silence.

I sat there, watching her. She was the center of this fragile, reclaimed peace we’d built and I was about to shake it.

“Sloane,” I said, my voice low.

She spun, startled, holding a stack of papers in her hand. “Jesus fuck, Levi… hey." She managed a small laugh at herself. "I thought you'd have gone to bed already."

"Sorry to disappoint."

She made her way over to the table next to me. "Thank you for handling the kids tonight.”

"Don't mention it. We had a blast." I saw the lines etched across her face, the worry, the uncertainty. "Are you okay?"

She didn’t answer right away. She let out a shaky breath and shook her head.

“No. Not really.” Her laugh was brittle.

“Everything going on… it’s too much. The kids I'm sure were anxious, there's no word on how long school is going to be virtual, and-” She cut herself off, lips pressing into a line. “I still can’t believe everything the president said.”

I felt it then, the truth itching at the back of my throat.

If only you knew how bad this is about to get, my love.

I wanted to tell her everything. How I wanted to not only unburden the part of me that was hiding this unbelievable secret, but also to tell her what I knew about this pandemic.

But I couldn’t.

I took her hand in mine and said, “Listen… we need to talk.”

I felt her flinch, as if she were about to snatch her hand away. She stopped herself and instead went stiff. “The last time you said that, you left. What is it? ”

I glanced toward the hallway and listened for any sounds of the kids coming downstairs. I wanted to ensure they weren’t within earshot. Rufus was already laying in his lumpy old bed after he'd tucked Violet in earlier.

“It’s about Angie,” I said.

Sloane's entire body went rigid and I could have sworn I heard her teeth clench. “What now?”

“The detective in charge of the case, Detective Harlan, called me tonight. They have enough. They’re moving forward with a warrant.”

She didn’t say anything, just sat there, blinking slowly while she processed.

“They linked the notes, my call logs, our security footage, the sightings from neighbor's cameras,” I continued. “She’s been watching the house. Closely. Maybe even tonight.”

Sloane pulled her hand out of mine and rested it lightly on her stomach. “Levi, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

I dropped my gaze. “I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want to bring her name into our home, into our lives… again. I didn’t want her to taint what we’ve been rebuilding.”

She was silent, but her breathing had gotten quicker, shallower. I could see her anxiety stirring under the surface.

“I should’ve told you,” I said. “I know that and I’m sorry. I was wrong. I knew you were handling-”

“You don’t get to decide what I can handle, Levi.” Her voice was tight, fury building, her eyes shining.

“I know.”

Her next words were like a hammer striking an anvil. “I am pregnant. Our children are in this house. She is your responsibility. This is your fault. ”

This is your fault, big guy… you fucking idiot.

“I know, Sloane. I do know all of that and I hate myself for it.”

Sloane pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes. “Goddammit, I thought the worst was behind us.”

I reached for her, slowly, palms up. Her anger caused my words to gush out in a rush.

“I know, so did I, and I am so sorry it's not. This has been eating at me, the stress and the guilt of it, I’ve even been keeping a journal every night, trying to work through it all.

" I took a deep breath then before I elaborated.

"My nightmares, my panic attacks, fear of losing you, of losing the baby.

I am trying to keep my head above it, but I feel like I'm drowning.”

She dropped her hands and met my gaze. “Nightmares? Panic attacks? Levi, why wouldn't you tell-" She took a deep breath and checked her rising anger. "Why would you keep something like that from me?”

“I wasn't hiding it. Not exactly,” I said. “I didn’t tell you fast enough.”

Her laugh was short and sharp. “That’s not better.”

“I know.” I reached out for her hand again and she took mine. “I didn’t want to burden you, Sloane. You already have so much… too much. I didn't want you to see it as a sign that I couldn't handle being here, being your partner."

“I wouldn’t have seen it as anything if you’d just told me,” she snapped.

But she winced at her own words and tone, her shoulders drawing with regret at her sharpness.

“Damn, Levi. I don’t need you to be perfect.

I never did. I need you to be honest. That’s always been the bare minimum.

” She looked at me for a long time before letting out a long sigh. “So, what now? ”

I squeezed her hand. “Now... we wait for the police to do their jobs. In the meantime, we stay alert and keep the kids close. I’m not letting her anywhere near you or the baby.”

Her lips trembled. Her eyes were darker now, rimmed with unshed tears and something colder: fear.

“Okay. I agree with you. We let the police handle it. Levi, Listen…” She paused and I saw she struggled with what to say next. “I didn’t tell you everything either.”

I felt my mouth go dry. “What do you mean?”

She swallowed. “Angie’s been calling the clinic. Leaving voicemails. Threatening ones.”

“What?” I leapt up from the table, the chair clattering to the tile. Rage coated my next words. “I am going to go kill her, Sloane.”

“Levi, no!” Sloane’s desperate plea helped me stay grounded. She stood, reached up, and put her cool hands on my hot face as she looked into my eyes. "You promised me you would do this the right way, didn't you?"

I broke my vows to fuck that bitch. What's one more broken promise? I will kill a thousand Angies to keep you safe.

I didn't say that. Instead, I saw my wife through a haze of red… and I took a deep breath.

"Please," she said, "stay here with me and listen."

I picked the chair up, sat back down with her, and we held hands as she spoke.

“Angie would call and say things like, ‘You'll never know him like I do,’ or, ‘He will always be mine,’ or, "I'll never let you steal him from me.' ”

My knuckles popped as my fists clenched. Angie was trying to unravel everything I had been carefully working towards. “Sloane, why didn’t you tell me?”

“For the same reasons you didn’t tell me. I suppose that's why I can't be too angry with you." She took a deep breath before she said, "Also, I was scared of how you would react.”

With the thoughts of my hands wrapped around Angie's throat still fresh on my mind, I had to concede her point. “I am sorry you didn't feel safe sharing this with me. What did you do?”

She exhaled shakily. “I deleted them before anybody else could hear them. She only left them when my shift started, so I think she was watching the clinic. Plus, I didn’t want anybody at the clinic to see me as… fragile.”

I cupped her face with my hand. “You are not fragile, Sloane. You’re stronger than anyone I know. But no one should have to be strong alone.”

She didn’t pull away and nestled her face against my palm, but her jaw stayed tight. “The kids cannot know about this.”

“I know.”