Prologue
Savannah
A sharp knock at the door shattered the quiet, slicing through the air like a warning.
“What was that?” I whispered, reaching for the remote to turn down the volume on the television. The sudden silence magnified the thudding of my heart.
Roger, my husband, sat rigid on the couch beside me. His eyes darted to the window, then back at me, his face a mask of forced calm. “What are you talking about?” he muttered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.
Before I could respond, the knock came again, harder this time—insistent, demanding, made me flinch, my breath catching in my throat.
“Police! Open up!” A gruff voice from the other side of the door shattered any illusion of normalcy.
Roger’s face went pale. He shot to his feet, eyes skimming the room, searching for escape. My pulse quickened, fear tangling with fury.
“Roger,” I said, my voice trembling, “what’s going on? What did you do?”
He didn’t answer, his gaze locked on the floor as if it held the answers he needed. The knock came again, louder this time, urgent.
I stood, one hand instinctively resting on my belly as fear tangled with fury. “You’re scaring me,” I said, my voice breaking. “Whatever this is, you need to—”
“Stay out of it,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut.
But I couldn’t stay out of it. Not when my life—our baby’s life—was on the line. Every step toward the door felt like walking a tightrope over a chasm, dread clawing at my insides.
When I opened the door, the cold rush of night air matched the chill spreading through my chest. Two uniformed officers stepped inside, their faces grim.
One of them grabbed Roger’s arms and pulled them behind his back, securing handcuffs around his wrists.
“Roger James, you are under arrest for armed robbery,” the officer announced, his voice clipped and professional. He began reciting Roger’s rights, but the words blurred in my ears.
Roger kept his head down, refusing to meet my eyes. Not a single glance, not a word. I watched, numb, as they led him out.
The sound of my pulse roared in my ears, drowning out the murmurs from neighbors who’d gathered outside, their faces lit by curiosity and judgment.
The door clicked shut behind them, leaving me in a vacuum of silence. I pressed my back against it, my legs threatening to give way beneath me.
My mind raced, replaying every red flag I’d ignored, every unanswered question that now seemed glaringly obvious.
For three years, I’d clung to the hope that our marriage could weather any storm. But now, with a baby on the way and ahusband who’d just been taken away in handcuffs, that hope shattered into pieces too small to pick up.
Alone in the silence, I wrapped my arms protectively around my stomach. A tiny flutter responded, a reminder that I had to hold it together—for both of us.
We’re going to be okay, I thought, my lips trembling.We have to be.
But as the hours crept by, the cracks in my resolve widened. I sat on the couch, staring at the empty space Roger had once filled, the quiet punctuated only by the occasional hum of the refrigerator. When the phone rang, the shrill sound jolted me like a slap.
I grabbed it, my hand shaking. “Hello?” My voice was raw, barely a whisper.
“This is a collect call from the county jail. Do you accept the charges?” the automated system droned.
I hesitated, dread coiling in my stomach, before pressing the button to accept. If I hadn’t known what I was going to do before that moment, I did after.
“Savannah.” Roger’s voice was cold, devoid of the warmth I’d once fallen in love with. “I never want to hear from you again. I’m in this mess because of you and that baby.”
The line went dead before I could respond. His words echoed in the silence, cutting deeper than any accusation ever had.
I sank onto the couch, my hands cradling my stomach. A tiny movement beneath my palm reminded me of the life depending on me, and slowly, determination began to take root where despair had been.
