Just days after being discharged from the hospital, my husband’s adopted sister, Wendy Crowley, went live.

Crying on a rooftop, she accused me of causing her miscarriage.

"The ultrasound already showed it was a boy… and that woman took his life!

"She can’t have children herself, so she couldn’t stand that I could. I want her to pay for my child’s death!"

My husband, Tristan Crowley, believed every word.

"Wendy, I failed to protect you. If I’d known she hated you this much, I would’ve locked her away long ago."

The livestream sparked outrage.

Everyone demanded justice.

"This is murder. She’s rotten to the core!"

"Where’s the law? Lock her up immediately!"

However, when Tristan and Wendy tracked me down–still streaming live–everyone watching… broke down in tears.

Tristan Crowley and Wendy Crowley rolled out of the city with a full livestream crew and a line of bodyguards.

The convoy stopped at a private villa tucked away in the foothills.

Nobody was permitted to enter that property. It had been built for one purpose. To hold me. The wife he had decided was a sinner.

The crew stepped out and saw the weeds running wild. The garden was a mess. The windows were soft with dust.

Tristan was in a tailored suit. The crisp line of him against the rotted hedge was meant to be a photograph.

He held a handkerchief over his nose like the air offended him.

"Since when has May been this lazy. Look at this place. It is disgusting.

"All she does is sulk over how much I love Wendy. Maybe if she made herself worth loving."

He turned toward the open door. His voice flattened.

"May. Stop hiding. Get out here!"

Nothing answered.

The grass moved in the wind. Somewhere in the trees, a crow called once and went silent.

His hand came down on the doorframe.

"Break it open." His voice was cold.

The bodyguards put their shoulders into the door.

One. Two. Three.

The frame splintered. The door opened wide. The bodyguards poured into the house like a tide.

Five minutes later they came back out empty-handed. Their faces were blank.

"Sir. There is no one inside."

Tristan's jaw flexed. His eyes went dark.

He pulled his phone out. He swiped to the dial pad and stopped.

He had locked me up only a month ago. But the number had become a stranger in his head.

His thumb hovered over a saved name he had not pressed in a long time. He had never deleted it.

[My Moon]

I watched his thumb shake on the screen. I watched his chest move too fast.

He used to call me that.

Before Wendy started crying.

Before the accusations.

Before he chose to believe her instead of the woman who had stayed up beside him through the night his father died, who had sat next to him through every fever, who had never had eyes for anyone else.

He had not called me that in a long time. His phone still remembered.

Inside the empty house, no phone rang. The handset he was holding gave him the long flat tone.

"The number you have dialed is not in service."

I let out a long breath he could not hear. Of course he could not reach me.

His face screwed up.

"May. You think you can dodge this. You think you can hide from me.

"Hide all you want. We'll see who breaks first."

A cough came from somewhere behind him.

He spun around.

In the corner, a man was leaning against a wall that was half-eaten with weeds. He was filthy. There was dirt on his face. There was a bottle in his hand.

"Stop yelling," the man said, slurring. "Whoever you came for. She is not here anymore."

Wendy heard him and shoved out from behind Tristan.

Her face was white. Old tears were drying in tracks down her cheeks. Her eyes were swollen to slits.

The livestream camera locked on her face.

"That's a lie." Her voice was a knife. "May Fairfax is in there. She is hiding. She saw my livestream and she ran into a corner. She's shaking somewhere in this house."

She shoved past a bodyguard and stumbled into the foyer.

"May, stop hiding! Come out here!"

Her voice ripped. She started flinging open every door she could reach.

"You think hiding is going to save you? Three days ago you killed my son! I was six months along. I was carrying a boy. Look at my stomach. You should be in hell!"

She lifted the hem of her shirt. There was an ugly red line across her belly. The seam was still raw.

The chat lit up.

[Oh my god, that's a knife wound. it isn't even healed yet!]

[Is this woman even human? Attacking a pregnant woman? A baby?]

[Wendy is so brave. She came straight out of the hospital to face the camera, and the killer is hiding from her!]

[Support wendy! Make May Fairfax pay!]

A man in a slicked-back haircut and a sharp suit stepped forward holding a briefcase.

He pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose and gave the camera the practiced little smile he had used a hundred times.

The chat caught him fast.

[That's Marshall Pierce!]

[Top defense lawyer in the country. Crowley group's chief counsel!]

[Oh good, let the pros handle her!]

[May Fairfax is finished! There is no escaping Marshall Pierce!]

Marshall pulled a sheet of paper out of his briefcase, cleared his throat, and read it like he was reading a verdict.

"Per the criminal code, anyone who intentionally inflicts serious bodily injury on another person may be sentenced to a multi-year term, depending on the severity and the specific circumstances. In cases involving particularly cruel methods or aggravating factors, the sentence may be longer."

He paused. He looked toward the dead, empty room.

"Ms. Fairfax. You are suspected of intentional bodily injury resulting in miscarriage, with aggravating circumstances. I recommend you turn yourself in voluntarily. It is the path that leads to leniency."

The chat went off.

[Did everyone hear that? May Fairfax, you are going to prison!]

[Marshall Pierce is right. Turn yourself in!]

[May, stop hiding and come out!]

Wendy felt the wave under her. Her chin came up.

She turned back toward the empty house. Something flickered in her eyes for half a second. Pleasure.

"Marshall. Tell her something for me." Her voice was clear now. There was no shake left in it. "I want her in prison. For three days my son has been dead. For three days I have been hearing him crying for me in my dreams."

"Why does the wicked one walk around free? I want her to pay with her life. Or I want her to scoop her own eggs out of her body.

"One egg for one of his organs. I want her to know what it feels like to watch her own flesh and blood disappear in front of her."

The chat hung for a beat. Then it broke open.

[Harvest her eggs? That's a little...]

[No, it's fair. One life for one life. She killed a six-month boy. Eggs aren't a person. A baby is a person!]

[I support this! May can't have a son anyway, can she? Make sure she never has one!]

[Take away her right to be a mother, forever!]

Tristan stood off to the side. He had not said a word.

He watched the whole thing the way you watch a stranger get sentenced. Cold.

Against the corner wall, the drunk man lifted his head.

His eyes were filmy. His voice came out dead clear.

"You're lying."

Everyone froze.

Wendy turned toward him in disbelief.

"Excuse me?"

"I said you're lying." He pulled himself up the wall and stood. "Three days ago, she did not make you miscarry. There is no way."

The chat had not registered yet. Marshall got there first. He gave a soft, mean laugh and looked the drunk up and down.

"What does a beggar know? Are you saying the wound on Ms. Crowley's belly is fake? Are you saying she opened her own stomach with a knife to frame someone?"

His voice was contemptuous.

"Have you ever been a mother? Do you know what it is to lose a child? Do you have any idea what it took for her to lift her shirt in front of this camera?"

The chat fell in.

[Is this man drunk? Why is he defending the killer? Wendy's scar isn't a deepfake!]

[Marshall absolutely roasted him!]

[I bet this drunk is in on it. Arrest him too!]

Tristan's face had gone the kind of hard you can't argue with.

He walked toward the drunk slow. Each word came out from between his teeth.

"Do you know May Fairfax?"

The drunk shook his head. "No."

"Then on what basis are you calling Ms. Crowley a liar?"

The drunk shrank a little. Then he set his jaw and got it out anyway.

"If you saw the woman in this villa three days ago, you'd know she could not have hurt anyone."

Wendy's eyes flickered at the drunk's line.

She bit down on her teeth, dug into her pocket, pulled her phone out, and turned the screen at the camera.

"You want to call me a liar. I have proof."

It was a piece of hospital surveillance from three days ago.

A woman walked into frame.

Hair loose around her shoulders. Fruit knife in her right hand.

It was supposed to be me. May Fairfax.

The footage had me with murder on my face, kicking a hospital room door open, walking straight to the bed.

Then in one motion, the knife came down across Wendy's belly.

Wendy's voice came out of the speakers, raw.

"Help! Somebody! She's killing my baby!"

The pitch of it could have cut glass.

The nurse station lights started flashing. White coats came running into the frame.

In the video, I turned and ran. The end of the corridor swallowed me.

The footage cut.

The chat lost its mind.

[Holy sh*t! She actually did it!]

[What is there left to debate? The proof is right there! May is a murderer!]

[Wendy, that poor woman... Her own sister-in-law cut her open, and the baby is gone!]

[Death penalty! She deserves nothing less!]

Wendy held the phone with shaking hands. The tears were running down her face.

"Did you all see that? May killed my son with her own hands."

She turned to the drunk. Her voice scraped.

"Now tell me I'm lying. I don't care if she paid you off, or if you've been sleeping with her. I am asking you one question. Do you have any humanity left at all?"

The drunk stared at the phone screen and frowned.

He said it flat. "That video is fake."

Tristan looked like he had heard the world's worst joke. The corner of his mouth pulled into something ugly.

"Fake? This is surveillance pulled out of a top hospital.

"Do you have any idea who you are accusing right now? Do you have any idea how much equipment Crowley Group donates to that hospital every year?"

Marshall shook his head. He gave a small, dry laugh. "A vagrant. Can't afford a meal. But you can authenticate video now. What's next, you think it's AI?"

The chat piled on.

[I'm dying. Is this drunk crazy?!]

[Hospital security can't be faked. Who do you think you are?]

[Shut his mouth! May Fairfax must have paid him! What's your number, I'll double it]

[Honestly, is he sleeping with her too?]

Then Wendy let out a long, awful wail.

Both her hands found her hair. She started slamming her head into the wall.

"Why won't you believe me? I gave you the proof! Do you want me to die? Do you want me to die in this house before you'll listen?"

Her forehead struck the cracked plaster with a dull thud.

Tristan went pale. He crossed the room in two strides and locked her down from behind.

"Wendy, stop! I believe you! I believe you, please!"

She thrashed in his arms. Tears and snot were running down her face.

"Nobody believes me! The drunk says I'm lying. Some of the chat is starting to doubt. You all think I'm acting, don't you?"

Marshall picked his cue.

"Ms. Crowley. With me here, May Fairfax does not get away. A few people running their mouths means nothing. The law works on evidence. Your evidence is overwhelming."

He paused. He gave the drunk a flat look.

"I'd suggest some people learn to keep their mouths shut. Defamation is also a crime."

A bodyguard took the cue. He crossed the floor and put a boot in the drunk's ribs.

"Talking out of turn. A beggar like you. Where do you get the nerve?"

The drunk made a small sound and folded against the wall.

The chat cheered.

[Good! That's what he gets!]

[Anyone defending a murderer deserves to get hit!]

[I bet he knows where she is. Drag him in, and make him talk!]

Tristan saw that line and was about to call for the drunk to be hauled away.

A police siren cut through the air.

His face changed. "Who called the police?"

He had wanted May to apologize. He hadn't wanted her in handcuffs.

The crew looked around. Nobody admitted to it.

Wendy caught the irritation in his face. Something dark flickered in her eyes and disappeared.

"It must have been the chat. Something this big, of course, someone called. Tristan, isn't this what we wanted? Let the police do their work. Let them lock her up. Justice for my baby."

Tristan did not answer. His jaw was tight.

The cruiser stopped. Three uniforms climbed out.

The lead officer checked the address against his notepad. He looked up at the gathered crew.

"Does anyone here know the woman who lives in this house. May Fairfax. She's been dead for a week."