The morning air was crisp, yet Zoey felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather. The house was quiet, too quiet, with the children still asleep in their rooms. Every creak of the floorboards, every faint whisper from the walls made her heart race. She had spent the night replaying Daniel’s actions in her mind, trying to piece together the puzzle. His sudden urgency at the hospital, the way he bribed the doctor, the desperation in his voice—it didn’t match the man who returned home each night to his children with soft smiles and playful banter.

Zoey knew she had to act carefully. Every step, every glance,...