That night, I thought Dario would be with Nora.
Instead, he came into our bedroom.
He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his hot hands sliding under my nightgown as he pressed his lips to my ear.
“Baby, you’ve recovered. We can finally…” His breath was heavy, his hands already starting to wander.
“No. The doctor said I need to rest for at least three months,” I said, pushing him away.
“Don’t be a buzzkill, Scarlett. I want you. Now,” he insisted, pressing against me again.
“I’m not in the mood.” I pointed to the three photos on the wall. “Thinking about them hurts too much.”
His eyes followed my finger. His pupils shrank, and all the color drained from his face. He scrambled off the bed.
“Why are you bringing them up?”
“They’re gone. You need to stop thinking about them.”
He slammed the door on his way out.
It was the first time he’d ever been truly angry with me.
I knew why he was angry.
He was guilty.
How could he not be, after poisoning three of his own children?
I lay in bed and started to plot.
The next morning, I heard their hushed, eager voices.
“Dario, I’m so happy I can see you every day. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Nora, I’ve missed you too. Let me in.”
Dario’s voice was thick with urgency.
I slipped my phone under the door and recorded everything.
Soon, the stress got to Dario. He couldn’t sleep.
I started adding a little something to his morning coffee. A mild hallucinogen.
That night, he stumbled out of his study, grabbing me in a panic.
“Scarlett! I saw them! They’re back! Our babies!”
He was babbling nonsense before collapsing in a dead faint.
But that was just the beginning.
I hired a few child actors, all around the ages my children would have been.
Late that night, as Dario woke up from another nightmare, the “children” appeared at his bedroom door.
“Daddy, we want our lives back,” a small voice echoed in the silent house.
He was terrified, clutching his head and trembling.
“Go away! It wasn’t me!”
“Daddy, we’re so cold. Why did you put poison in our milk?”
He shattered.
“It was me! I poisoned your milk! The proof is in my safe! Please, just leave me alone!”
With that, he fainted again.
Pathetic.
I went straight to his study and found the safe.
But I immediately hit a snag.
It required a fingerprint and a password.
And only two people knew the password: Dario and his sister, Aria Blackwood.
