I got a call from my son, his voice shaking: “Dad… I came home and saw Mom with Uncle Ted. He locked me in—I had to jump from the third floor to escape.” I raced over, heart in my throat. My boy stumbled into my arms, trembling, bruised, fighting for breath. “They’re still inside,” he cried against my chest. And in that moment, something inside me roared awake. No one hurts my child and walks away.

Sarah was sitting on the plush beige sofa, her legs tucked under her, holding a glass of his best Cabernet. Her hair was tousled. Her lipstick was slightly smeared.

Ted was sitting opposite her in the armchair, leaning forward, his hand resting on her knee. He was holding a glass too. They were laughing.

When David walked in, they jumped apart like teenagers caught by a parent. Ted yanked his hand back. Sarah sat up straight, smoothing her skirt.

“David!” Sarah exclaimed, her hand flying to her throat. Her face flushed. “You’re… you’re home early! We… uh… Ted just stopped by. To check the router. It was acting up. We were just celebrating… that it’s fixed.”

“Hey, buddy,” Ted said, forcing a relaxed grin, though his eyes were darting around nervously, looking for an exit. “Yeah, router’s all good. Signal is strong. Just having a drink before I head out.”

David didn’t look at Ted. He couldn’t. If he looked at Ted, the rage would take over, and he would kill him right there on the rug.

He looked at Sarah. He needed to give her a chance to save herself. He needed to know if she had a soul left.