To the outside world, my wife was an angel. But one night, I came home unannounced and heard my six-year-old daughter pleading behind a closed door. What I witnessed that night destroyed everything I believed in.

Unanswered.

—Ava. Lucas.

I was halfway up the stairs when I heard it. A muffled cry. The sob of a child.

“Please, Mom,” a trembling voice whispered. “Please don’t hurt us. We’re hungry.”

My blood ran cold. Ava. I ran. The playroom door was slightly ajar. Inside, Ava sat on the floor, her dress torn and stained. She clung to Lucas, whose cries were weak and desperate. Standing over them was Patricia, elegant in a red dress, holding a bottle.

“Silence,” Patricia said sharply. “If you disobey me again, you’ll sleep outside.”

She dropped the bottle. Milk spilled onto the marble floor. Ava closed her eyes and wrapped her arms tighter around her brother.

Something inside me broke. “What are you doing to my children?” I screamed.

Patricia turned around. Fear flickered across her face before melting into a smile. “Michael, you scared me,” she said gently. “I was teaching them discipline.”

I took a step forward and lifted Lucas into my arms. His small body trembled against mine. Ava grabbed my hand without hesitation.