Richard stared at Vanessa, and the entire room seemed to tilt beneath his feet.
For four nights, his son had screamed in agony.
For four nights, Ethan had begged his father to believe that something was moving inside his cast.
And for four nights, Richard had dismissed him.
He had called it grief.
Anxiety.
Manipulation.
A frightened child refusing to accept his father’s new wife.
But now dozens of red ants crawled across the towel Mrs. Rosa had wrapped around Ethan’s arm.
Some remained trapped inside the damp cast padding.
Others scattered frantically across the white bedsheets.
Richard’s stomach twisted.
Ethan’s skin was raw.
It was not merely irritated.
It had been destroyed.
Clusters of tiny bites covered his forearm.
The swelling around his wrist and fingers had become tight and shiny.
Near the inside of his elbow, a dark patch had begun forming beneath the damaged skin.
The moment Mrs. Rosa saw it, all color disappeared from her face.
“Call an ambulance,” she ordered.
Richard did not move.
He could not stop looking at Vanessa.
His wife stood in the bedroom doorway with both hands clenched beside her body.
Her silk robe rested perfectly around her.
Her hair remained smooth.
Her expression appeared controlled.
Almost.
“Vanessa,” Richard whispered. “Did you know about this?”
Her eyes flashed.
“How dare you ask me that?”
“Did you know?”
“That child has lied about me since the day I entered this house.”
Mrs. Rosa turned sharply toward her.
“He was not lying tonight.”
Vanessa pointed an accusing finger at the older woman.
“You did this. You put those insects there.”
Her voice rose.
“You have hated me since the moment I married Richard.”
Richard’s head snapped toward her.
“Rosa has cared for Ethan since he was a baby.”
“And I am his stepmother!” Vanessa shouted.
Her composure began cracking.
“But nobody allows me to be anything in this house.”
She gestured wildly toward the walls.
“Not with Laura’s photograph in every room.”
“Not with that boy treating a dead woman like some kind of saint.”
“And not with you running to him every time he cries.”
The words came too quickly.
They were too bitter.
Too honest.
Ethan whimpered from the bed.
“Dad…”
Richard turned toward him.
Shame nearly forced him to his knees.
His son was shaking so violently that Mrs. Rosa had wrapped both arms around his small body to keep him steady.
The shattered cast rested beside them like evidence from a crime scene.
Richard grabbed his phone and called emergency services.
His voice broke twice while giving the dispatcher their address.
Vanessa slowly stepped backward into the hallway.
Mrs. Rosa noticed immediately.
“Sir,” she said quietly, “do not allow her to leave.”
Richard moved toward the door.
Vanessa stopped.
For the first time since marrying her, Richard recognized something in her eyes that he had previously mistaken for confidence.
Calculation.
“Give me your phone,” he said.
Vanessa laughed once.
“Excuse me?”
“Your phone.”
“No.”
Richard stepped closer.
“You are not leaving this house until the police arrive.”
Her expression twisted.
“You would choose a hysterical child and a servant over your wife?”
Mrs. Rosa did not react to the insult.
Richard did.
“Do not call her that.”
Vanessa’s mouth tightened.
From downstairs, the sound of approaching sirens began rising through the rain.
Then Vanessa ran.
