The Baby Shower
Saturday
Sammy was a hurricane. A glitter-drenched menace. And the penthouse had become a pastel battlefield of balloons and edible glitter. Alexander didn’t complain. Didn’t blink. Didn’t even comment when a guest offered the twins a villa.
He watched me. Only me. But then—A headline flashed on someone’s phone: Body found in forest identified as former foster guardian—known history of child endangerment.
My blood froze. A coincidence? A ghost? Or a warning?
Sammy pulled me back into conversation, laughing about thigh-high boots and glitter cake—But my stomach twisted because something felt wrong.
And later that night, when Alexander kissed me goodnight, the sharp line in his jaw told me—He felt it too. Something was coming. Something that wanted what we had. Especially our babies' presents.