Chapter 1: The Woman Behind the Lie
Nia screamed before I even reached the stairs.
I ran from the kitchen, nearly knocking over a chair, and found my wife lying at the bottom of our marble staircase, clutching her rounded belly.
“My baby!”” she screamed.
“Marcus, your father pushed me!””
My father stood three steps above her.
His hands were raised. His face had gone completely white.
“I never touched her,” Dad said.
But I wasn't listening.
I saw my wife crying. I saw the fake-looking terror in her eyes. I saw the belly beneath her cream-colored dress.
And I saw red.
I charged up the stairs and shoved my father against the wall.
“Get out of my house!””
“Marcus, listen to me.””
“GET OUT!””
My father caught the railing before he fell. For a moment, he stared at me as if he couldn't recognize the son standing in front of him.
Then he picked up his coat.
“I didn't push her,” he whispered.
“And that baby—”
“Don't you dare!””
He looked toward Nia one last time.
There was something in his expression I couldn't understand.
Not anger.
Not even disappointment.
It looked like pity.
Then he walked out.
I returned to my wife, dropped to my knees, and took her hand.
"You're safe, sweetheart.""
Nia squeezed my fingers.
"Please don't let him come near me again.""
I promised her he wouldn't.
It was the first promise I made that night that I would spend the rest of my life regretting.
For the next hour, Nia refused to let me leave her side.
She complained about dizziness and back pain, but whenever I mentioned the hospital, she became irritated.
"Marcus, stop treating me like I'm made of glass.""
"You fell down an entire staircase.""
"I need to rest.""
"What about the baby?""
Her expression changed.
"Don't you dare use our baby to pressure me.""
I stared at her.
She began crying again, and I immediately apologized.
I brought her water, adjusted her pillows, and called her doctor. She insisted she had already spoken to him and didn't need another examination.
Something felt wrong, but I pushed the feeling aside.
Nia had been my wife for three years. We had supposedly spent nearly a year trying to have a child. I had watched her cry after negative pregnancy tests. I had held her through doctor's appointments and celebrated when she announced she was finally pregnant.
I had believed every word.
That night, I was carrying a glass of water toward our bedroom when I heard her whispering.
"It worked.""
I stopped outside the half-open door.
"He threw him out exactly like I knew he would.""
Silence.
Then Nia laughed.
"No one is going to question a pregnant woman who fell down the stairs.""
My fingers tightened around the glass.
I pushed the door open.
Nia spun around.
"Marcus!""
"Who were you talking to?""
"No one.""
"Give me the phone.""
She quickly ended the call.
"You're frightening me.""
"Who were you talking to?""
"You're being paranoid.""
I looked at her stomach.
Then I noticed something pale sticking out from beneath the blanket.
A thin silicone strap.
Nia followed my gaze.
Her hand shot toward it.
I moved faster.
I pulled the object from the blanket.
It was a fastening strap.
My heartbeat became painfully loud.
"Nia, what is this?""
"Give it back.""
I lifted the blanket.
She grabbed my wrist.
"Don't!""
But I had already seen it.
Beneath her dress was a large padded pregnancy belly.
Not a baby.
Not a pregnancy.
A costume.
I stumbled backward.
"What the hell?""
Nia started crying.
"Marcus, please.""
"You told me you were pregnant.""
"I can explain.""
"You let me paint a nursery. You let my mother buy a crib. You made me believe I was going to be a father!""
She covered her face.
I felt physically sick.
Then my phone buzzed.
A security notification appeared.
*STAIRCASE FOOTAGE AVAILABLE.*
I opened the recording.
There was Nia at the top of the stairs.
She looked down the hallway.
Waited.
Adjusted the fake belly.
Then slowly lowered herself onto the first step before deliberately pushing herself down.
I watched the footage twice.
My wife had staged the entire accident.
But then another figure appeared in the hallway.
Someone had been watching her.
The figure stepped forward just as Nia reached the bottom.
The camera captured a face.
I stopped breathing.
It was my younger sister, Olivia.
Nia looked at the screen.
Her lips parted.
"No.""
I turned toward her.
"Why was my sister there?""
Nia shook her head.
"I didn't know she was watching.""
"Watching what?""
"Marcus, please. You don't understand.""
I grabbed my phone and enlarged the image.
Olivia was holding something.
A small black object.
It looked like a phone, but there was a red light blinking near its edge.
She hadn't simply witnessed the fall.
She had been recording it.
I looked back at Nia.
"How long has my sister known about this?""
Nia began shaking.
May you like
Then she whispered six words that made my blood run cold.
"She's the one who paid me.""
