Valerie couldn't sleep.
The message echoed in her mind long after she'd deleted it.
"Is he still hitting you?"
Who had sent it?
And why now?
She stared at the ceiling, her fingers curled protectively over her stomach. Daniel's steady breathing beside her made her skin crawl. How could he sleep so peacefully while she lay next to him in fear?
Her thoughts raced back to that day two weeks ago when she'd flinched as Daniel slammed a glass on the table too hard. He hadn't hit her that day, but he had before. Not often. Not with fists. But with words. With threats. With pressure that pushed her toward silence.
Everyone thought she was living a dream life.
No one knew the nightmare behind closed doors.
Until now.
Someone knew.
The next morning, Daniel was already dressed when she came down for breakfast.
He barely looked at her. "I have a meeting. I'll be late."
Valerie nodded, trying to keep her expression blank. "Alright."
But he paused at the door. "You've been quiet lately."
She looked up slowly. "I've just been tired."
His eyes lingered. Cold. Calculating. "Tired, or hiding something?"
She froze.
"I'm your husband, Valerie," he continued, buttoning his cuff. "If something's wrong, I deserve to know."
The way he said it made her skin crawl.
"No secrets," he added. "You know how much I hate them."
She nodded, lips tight. "Nothing's wrong."
He smiled, kissed her on the cheek, and left.
Her knees buckled the moment the door clicked shut.
Valerie rushed upstairs, locked herself in the bathroom, and pulled out the second phone she kept hidden inside a box of tampons beneath the sink. Adrian's number was still saved. She hovered over it.
She hadn't spoken to him since that night.
He didn't even know she was pregnant.
And he couldn't. Not if she wanted to keep him safe.
She quickly checked her messages nothing. No calls. No texts from him.
But the unknown number from last night still haunted her.
Who was it?
She checked again. The message was gone. Deleted. Nothing in the call logs. No ID. Nothing to trace.
But someone had reached out.
And someone knew enough to be dangerous.
Later that afternoon, as she sat in the lounge flipping through a fashion magazine she wasn't reading, Fiona the housekeeper entered with a tray of fresh juice.
"Thank you," Valerie said absently.
Fiona hesitated. "Mrs. Carter… forgive me, but… are you alright?"
Valerie looked up sharply. "Why?"
"You just seem… different," Fiona said, lowering her voice. "Tense."
Valerie tried to smile. "I'm fine, Fiona. Just tired."
But the woman's eyes lingered a moment longer before she nodded and left the room.
Valerie's phone buzzed again.
Another unknown number.
"You should leave before it's too late."
She stood up so fast the glass fell off the table, smashing on the marble floor.