The night before I gave birth, I overheard my husband secretly offer the doctor $500,000 to make sure I died during delivery so he could start a new life with his five-month-pregnant mistress. I pretended to be asleep—but by the next day, his plan had completely backfired.

Then I sent it to my older brother, Ethan.

I typed one sentence.

If anything happens to me or my baby tomorrow, take this recording straight to the police.

My phone started ringing instantly.

Ethan.

I declined.

I could not risk Daniel hearing the phone.

A message appeared.

CLAIRE WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?

Another.

CALL ME.

Another.

ARE YOU SAFE?

My fingers moved quickly.

For now.

Do not come here.

Do not call Daniel.

Do not contact the doctor.

Call Laura.

Then I switched my phone to silent.

Twenty minutes later, Daniel returned.

I heard the door.

Then his footsteps.

He entered my room.

I closed my eyes before he reached the bed.

He leaned over me.

His cologne filled my nose.

Then he kissed my forehead.

“Tomorrow, everything changes.”

I kept my face relaxed.

Inside, something cold settled into place.

Yes.

Tomorrow everything would change.

Just not in the way he planned.