Chapter 1

Two years ago, I got pregnant for the first time.

At ten weeks, a small, silver padlock pendant appeared on our front doorstep.

No package slip. No sender info.

Julian laughed off my anxiety, telling me it was probably an early gift from a friend.

That very night, sharp cramps tore through my abdomen.

By the time I was rushed to the ER in the dead of night, the baby’s heartbeat was gone.

A year ago, I became pregnant again.

I didn't tell a soul, keeping it a secret even from my own mother.

Yet at eight weeks, that exact same silver lock mysteriously showed up inside our unfurnished nursery.

The windows were locked tight, and the security cameras showed nobody entering.

That was the time I slipped in the bathroom, and lost my second child.

Now, I was pregnant for the third time.

In the early morning of my seventh week, I bolted upright from a nightmare, my fingers brushing against something icy cold beneath my pillow.

A third silver lock lay there in absolute silence.

I gripped the lock in my trembling hand, a shudder running down my spine.

Who in the world wanted my baby dead?

When the bathroom door opened, Julian had just finished his shower.

A towel was wrapped around his waist, water still dripping from the tips of his hair. Seeing me sitting upright on the bed, he froze for a split second.

"Why are you awake?"

I didn't answer. I simply opened my palm.

The silver lock gleamed coldly under the dim bedside lamp.

Julian’s gaze fell on it, and his brow furrowed almost immediately.

"This again?"

"It was under my pillow."

My voice was barely a whisper.

"The bedroom door was locked all night."

"No one stepped inside except for you."

He paused for two seconds, then picked up his phone from the nightstand.

"I’ll have building security check the hallway cameras."

"Is that going to do any good?"

His thumb froze over the screen.

"This is the third time, Julian."

Weariness washed over Julian’s face.

"Serena, a piece of silver jewelry can’t cause a miscarriage."

My fingers tightened violently around the lock.

The sharp edge dug into my palm, the sting keeping me razor-sharp.

"Every single time it shows up, something terrible happens to our baby."

"That’s just a coincidence."

"Lightning doesn't strike three times in the exact same spot."

Julian reached out to take the lock from my hand, but I jerked it back.

His hand hung suspended in midair.

"What do you want to do, then?"

"Call the police."

I reached for my phone.

"There might still be fingerprints on it. If we hand it to the detectives, they can find out who’s behind this."

The screen lit up, but Julian instantly clamped his hand over my wrist.

His grip wasn't brutal, yet it was firm enough that I couldn't pull away.

"It’s three in the morning."

"You have a history of miscarriages. The doctor said you cannot get worked up."

"Go to sleep. I’ll have my people look into it tomorrow."

I stared into his eyes.

"Why do you stop me from calling the cops every single time?"

His expression turned thoroughly cold.

"Because I don't want everyone thinking my pregnant wife has gone completely paranoid, treating a harmless piece of jewelry like a murder weapon."

Those words struck me across the face harder than a physical slap.

I slowly lifted my head.

"You think I'm crazy?"

"I think you need rest."

"After losing our first two babies, I went through a full year of therapy. Every time I asked you about the investigation, you told me to let it go. Now a third lock is lying inside our locked bedroom, and you're still telling me to let it go."

Word by word, I stared him down. "Julian, are you really trying to protect me, or are you protecting whoever left this lock? Do you know who it is?"

A flicker of irritation flashed across Julian’s eyes.

"Who could I possibly know?"

"Is it Evelyn?"

The second her name left my lips, his entire face visibly stiffened.

It was brief.

So fast it was gone in the blink of an eye.

Yet I caught it.

"Stop imagining things."

He grabbed his jacket, turned on his heel, and walked out of the bedroom.