Chapter 3

As I endured the pain in my back, I put Dolce back to sleep.

Once her breathing evened out, I went back to the living room to clean up the mess. It was even worse than I imagined. I kept filling up bag after bag of trash. The takeout boxes had already turned moldy. The stains from the drinks on the floor refused to budge no matter how much I mopped them.

The cleaning lasted until past 11 p.m., and I was finally able to return the house to a state where I could finally walk on it without worrying about stepping on something gross.

When I bent down to pick up the building blocks on the carpet, a long, black thing rolled out from the pile of toys.

I was stunned, and my first reaction was to think that this was the stun baton I had put in the entryway drawer.

Some time ago, there was a drunkard in the residential area who frequently harassed single women or housewives spending large amounts of time alone. I bought a stun baton so that Selena could take it around when she left the house.

But she thought that it was ugly and would destroy her image as an exquisite housewife, so I could only leave the stun baton in the entryway drawer.

However, this particular stun baton did not seem right. It was shorter than the one I had bought, and there were strange lines on it.

With a frown, I took a photo of it to identify it.

In the next second, the product description popped up.

[An adult toy. Silent. Easy to carry and can vibrate.]

My stomach churned. Why was this among Dolce’s toys?

I immediately thought about Selena and remembered her handbag. I also remembered the panic on both her and Howard’s faces just now.

I felt my blood run cold.

I went to the entryway drawer to take a look, and it only made me even more uneasy.

My stun baton was gone.

I stood still as cold sweat covered my back.

Had Dolce touched it? Had she pressed the on switch?

I rushed into the nursery and checked her hands. Once I was sure that she was okay, I sighed in relief. Then, I put that disgusting thing in three layers of trash bags before throwing it into the trash can at the entrance.

After that, I washed my hands a few times with soap. Even so, I could not get rid of the unease in my heart.

That night, I lay beside Dolce’s bed in the nursery but could not sleep.

Some time past 1 a.m., I heard the door unlocking. Selena and Howard had come back.

I did not make a sound. The nursery’s door wasn’t shut tight, so I could hear their whispers.

Howard sounded a little drunk. “Selena, do you think Philip is still awake?”

Selena snickered. “Don’t be scared. He’s the type who gets exhausted after putting a kid to sleep. Besides, even if he knows, what can he do about it?”

Howard’s voice turned even softer. “What about Dolce?”

Selena snapped impatiently, “Once Dolce is sleeping, she won’t know anything. Don’t talk about her. It just ruins the mood.”

As I lay in the darkness, my fingernails dug into my palms. So, Dolce ruined her mood, did she?

Howard continued, “Should I still sleep in the master bedroom tonight?”

Selena giggled. “You always wanted to sleep there, didn’t you? Don’t worry. This is my place. I’m the one who gets to choose who sleeps in the master bedroom.”

I felt like I had been stabbed in my heart.

That was my bedroom with Selena. Before Dolce was born, I had picked the bed.

I remembered how hard I had worked to earn money over the years.

In the past, when Selena posted pictures of flowers, gifts, and money transfers, the caption was always this.

[A woman loved by her husband will become gentler as time passes.]

But her gentleness was never for me.

I yanked off my blanket and wanted to rush over, but the pain in my back made me suck in a sharp breath.

Just then, I heard a piercing cry from the bedroom.

“Ah!!!”

It sounded horrific, as if someone had been electrocuted.

Dolce jolted awake. She rubbed her eyes and asked, “Daddy, what’s wrong with Mommy?”

I hugged her and covered her ears. “Don’t worry. I’ll go take a look.”

But right when I entered the living room, the doorbell rang.

The moment I opened the door, I found two security guards standing outside. Behind them were a few neighbors with jackets over their shoulders.

Mrs. Xanders, my upstairs neighbor, was displeased. “Mr. Wilson, what are you doing in the middle of the night? My kids are crying because of you.”

Mrs. Lane, my next-door neighbor, said, “That scream sounded like you were slaughtering pigs.”

The security guards looked at me awkwardly. “Mr. Wilson, we’ve received complaints from a few residents. Shouldn’t you check what’s going on at home?”

Before I could answer, there was another howl of pain coming from the master bedroom.

It was even more horrific this time.

The entire crowd at the door fell silent.

I sucked in a deep breath. “Let’s check it together, shall we?”