[POV Daphne]
I threw myself into routine like a drowning woman clutching at driftwood.
The afternoon passed in a blur of familiar tasks—making lunch, cleaning up, organizing the girls' room. Every action felt deliberate, almost ritualistic, as if going through the motions of normal life could somehow restore normalcy itself.
"Mommy, can I have more juice?" Nina asked from the kitchen table, where she was coloring with fierce concentration.
"Of course, baby," I poured her another glass, then turned to Lisa. "What about you, sweetheart? Are you hungry? Do you want a snack?"
Lisa shook her head, her dark eyes following my every movement. She hadn't let me out of her sight since we'd returned home, tracking me around the apartment like she was afraid I might disappear the moment she looked away.
"I'm okay, Mommy, just want to stay with you."
"Then that's exactly what we'll do," I pulled up a chair beside her, abandoning the dishes I'd been organizing. "Whatever you need, baby, I'm right here."
The apartment felt different now—unfamiliar, as though danger had seeped into the walls during our absence. Every shadow seemed deeper, every creak of the floorboards more ominous. I found myself checking the locks repeatedly, glancing toward the windows as if expecting to see someone watching from outside.
This was our home, but it didn't feel safe anymore.
"Mommy, why do you keep looking at the door?" Nina asked, her crayon pausing mid-stroke.
"Just making sure everything's secure, darling. Old habit."
"Are you worried the mean lady will come back?"
Lisa's hand found mine under the table, her small fingers gripping tight. I squeezed back reassuringly, even as my heart clenched.
"The mean lady is gone," I said firmly. "She's with the police now, and she can never hurt any of us again, I promise."
"Cross your heart?"
"Cross my heart," I traced the pattern over my chest. "Now, who wants to help Mommy give Lisa a nice warm bath? We can use the special bubbles."
"The purple ones?" Nina perked up immediately. "Lisa loves the purple ones!"
"The purple ones," I confirmed.
I ran the bath while the girls gathered their toys—rubber ducks, foam letters, a small plastic mermaid Lisa had received for her birthday. The water steamed gently, filling the bathroom with the scent of lavender, and I added extra bubbles until the surface was thick with foam.
"Okay, sweetheart," I helped Lisa undress, my hands gentle as I peeled away the hospital-issued clothes she'd been wearing. Underneath, her skin was pale but unmarked—no bruises, no injuries, nothing visible to show what she'd endured.
The invisible wounds would take longer to heal.
"Is it too hot?" I tested the water again, adjusting the temperature. "Tell me if it's uncomfortable."
"It's perfect, Mommy," Lisa sank into the bubbles with a small sigh of pleasure. "It smells nice."
"Lavender, your favorite."
I washed her hair slowly, methodically, working the shampoo through her dark strands with careful fingers. Lisa leaned back against my hand, her eyes drifting closed, and I felt something loosen in my chest at the simple intimacy of the moment.
"Mommy?" Lisa's voice was drowsy, half-asleep in the warm water. "Why did the lady take me?"
The question hit me like a physical blow. I'd been dreading it, knowing it would come, having no idea how to answer.
"She was sick, baby," the words felt inadequate, but what else could I say? "Sometimes people do bad things when they're not thinking clearly. It wasn't your fault, none of it was your fault."
"She said Daddy needed to be punished."
My hands stilled in her hair. "What else did she say?"
"That our family wasn't real. That Daddy had a little secret he would never tell you about," Lisa opened her eyes, looking up at me with that unsettling wisdom children sometimes possessed. "Is that true, Mommy?"
I thought about Xander in the living room, alone with his confession. I thought about fifteen years of buried stories, about the man I'd married without knowing the full picture of his past.
"Everyone has secrets, sweetheart," I resumed washing her hair, keeping my voice steady. "But that doesn't mean Daddy is a bad person. It just means he made mistakes, like everyone does. The important thing is that he loves you and Nina more than anything in the world."
Lisa seemed to accept this, sinking deeper into the bubbles. I finished rinsing her hair and wrapped her in the softest towel I could find, carrying her to her room even though she was technically too big for that now.
I didn't care. I needed to hold her.
Nina helped me pick out pajamas—the purple ones with stars, Lisa's favorites—and I dressed Lisa with the same careful attention I'd given her as an infant. Every button fastened felt like a small victory. Every familiar gesture felt like reclaiming something that had been stolen.
"Story time?" Nina bounced on her bed eagerly. "Can we have an extra-long story tonight?"
"The longest story you want," I settled between them on Lisa's bed, one daughter tucked under each arm. "What should we read?"
"The princess one," Lisa said quietly. "Where the princess saves herself."
"Good choice."
I read until my voice grew hoarse, until Nina's eyes drooped and Lisa's breathing slowed into the rhythm of sleep. Even then, I didn't stop—just lowered my voice to a whisper, continuing the story to no one, filling the silence with words because silence felt too dangerous.
When I finally closed the book, both girls were deeply asleep. Nina had migrated to Lisa's bed at some point, the two of them curled together like they had in the womb, their faces peaceful in the soft glow of the nightlight.
I should leave, check on Xander, have the conversation we both knew was coming, deal with the wreckage of secrets and silence that had nearly destroyed us.
Instead, I sat on the edge of Lisa's bed, watching my daughters breathe.
Relief and fear twisted together inside me, impossible to separate. Lisa was home—but she'd been taken. She was safe—but she'd been in danger. Our family was together—but fractured by truths I was still learning to process.
You have no fucking idea of what your lovely husband did.
Bianca's voice echoed relentlessly in my mind, a poison that wouldn't stop spreading. I'd told Xander I believed him, and I did—mostly. I didn't think he'd killed Marcus Chen, but I felt that case wasn’t about Marcus at all.
He'd lied to me. He'd kept secrets that put our family at risk. He'd chosen silence over trust, protection over partnership, and that choice had cost us nearly everything.
How many other secrets were buried in our marriage? How many landmines were waiting to explode beneath our feet?
I looked at my daughters, their faces soft and vulnerable in sleep. They deserved better than parents who kept things from each other. They deserved a family built on honesty, on trust, on the certainty that the people who loved them would never hide the things that mattered.
Xander's secrets had almost destroyed us. But I had secrets too—not about murder or blackmail, but about the doubts I'd harbored, the fears I'd never voiced, the moments when I'd wondered if our marriage was built on a foundation strong enough to withstand the weight of real life.
Those secrets would have to come out too. All of them, from both of us, laid bare in the light where they couldn't fester anymore.
It was the only way forward. The only way to build something real from the wreckage Bianca had left behind.
I kissed each of my daughters on the forehead, lingering over Lisa's sleeping face, memorizing the curve of her cheek and the flutter of her eyelashes against her skin.
Then I stood, squared my shoulders, and walked out to find my husband.