Chapter 1: The Night Nobody Was Supposed to Come Home
"My flight to London was canceled, so I came home at 1:47 a.m.
without telling anyone.
Instead of finding my pregnant wife asleep, I found my sister smashing our safe with a hammer while my mother stood over Irene, gripping her hair and screaming, "Tell me the code and we'll be done with this." I wanted to pull them away from her—but first, I took out my phone and started recording.
"Scream all you want!" my mother shouted.
"Austin is flying to London.
Nobody is coming to save you."
I froze outside our bedroom.
A crash came from inside.
Then Irene groaned.
My bl00d turned cold.
I pushed the door open just enough to see everything.
My wife was on the floor, three months pregnant, clutching her stomach.
Her lip was split.
Her face was swollen.
One shoulder of her nightgown had been torn.
My mother, Margaret, stood over her.
"Give me the safe code!" she demanded.
"You were nobody before you married my son.
You are not keeping what belongs to him."
A few feet away, my younger sister, Carla, repeatedly struck the safe's electronic lock with a hammer.
Beside her was an open suitcase packed with cash, legal documents, and gold taken from my study.
"Mom, stop wasting time," Carla snapped.
"If she won't talk, scare her properly.
We need those papers tomorrow."
Something inside me broke.
For years, I had supported both of them.
When Irene became pregnant, Mom insisted on staying with us in Paradise Valley because she wanted to "care for Irene like a daughter."
I had believed her.
Every word.
My first instinct was to rush into that room.
Instead, I forced myself to stay still.
If I exploded, they could later call it a family disagreement.
So I took out my phone.
And recorded everything.
The threats.
The hammer.
The suitcase.
My mother h*rting my pregnant wife.
Then I called 911.
"My name is Austin Wentworth.
Two people are att*cking my pregnant wife inside my home and attempting to break into my safe.
Send police and an ambulance immediately."
The hammer stopped.
Carla went white.
Mom turned toward the doorway.
I stepped inside, still wearing my rain-soaked suit.
"Austin?" she stammered.
"Why are you here?"
Irene looked up at me.
For one second, relief replaced the terror in her eyes.
"Aust—"
Her body went limp.
I dropped to my knees and caught her.
Mom immediately started crying.
"Son, this isn't what it looks like!
She was st*aling from you.
Carla and I were stopping her!"
I looked at the hammer.
The damaged safe.
The stolen documents.
Then at them.
"The police are already coming," I said quietly.
"Use the next few minutes to agree on your lie."
"I'm your mother!" Margaret cried.
I held Irene tighter.
"Tonight, they're not taking my mother and sister away."
Sirens grew louder outside.
"They're taking two people who att*cked my pregnant wife and tried to rob my home."
But as the flashing lights appeared through the windows, I still didn't know the worst part.
What I had walked in on that night was only a fraction of what Irene had been silently enduring for months…
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What had Margaret and Carla really been doing to Irene all those months?
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