Chapter 1He Killed Our Daughters For Her

He sent our five-year-old twin daughters away because they upset the woman he could never get over. All it took was one unhappy comment from her, and he had them enrolled in a behavioral modification academy.

The school’s “escorts” stormed our home to take them. My daughters, my little girls, clawed at the door of the black SUV, their voices shrill with terror as they screamed for their father.

I was on my knees on the driveway, the sharp gravel digging into my skin.

“They’re only five, Ethan,” I begged, my voice shredding. “They’re just babies. A place like that will break them. It’s my fault, I’m their mother, I’m the one who failed to teach them. Punish me…”

But Ethan just stood there, his arm wrapped around her, watching the three of us with cold, detached eyes.

“If you hadn’t coddled them, they wouldn’t have turned into such entitled brats,” he spat. “I’m their father. If you can’t discipline them, I will. Do you really think I would ever let any harm come to them?”

The next day, when his sister and I finally reached the academy, we were met with the sight of our daughters’ small bodies, covered in deep purple bruises. They were no longer breathing.

And my husband? He was on Instagram, celebrating the fact that his high school sweetheart was pregnant with his child.

My eyes, empty of everything, turned to my sister-in-law.

“My babies are dead,” I whispered, the words feeling like sand in my mouth. “I have nothing left. Please, Sophie. Just let me go. I don’t want anything.”

* * *

By the time we got them to the hospital, there were no signs of life. They didn’t even make it to the emergency room; they were wheeled straight to the morgue.

Sophie looked at me, her gaze thick with a pity I couldn’t bear. She tried to find words of comfort.

“It’s going to be okay, Reagan. I promise. Grandfather and I are on your side. Ethan was wrong, completely wrong. I’ll make him come and apologize, and you two can…”

Her voice trailed off as I held my phone up to her face.

It was Ethan’s Instagram post from two hours ago. The caption read: “Before you even entered this world, Mommy and Daddy already loved you.”

The picture was an ultrasound. The name at the top was clear: Victoria Reed. Six weeks pregnant.

Victoria. The one he’d always wanted.

Sophie’s words choked in her throat. A moment later, her face flushed with rage. “I’m calling him right now. I swear to you, Reagan, the Lockwood family will make this right…”

A dry, bitter laugh escaped my lips. I hit dial on Ethan’s number myself and put it on speaker. He answered on the second ring, his voice already laced with irritation.

“Are you calling to cry about the girls being ‘mistreated’ again? They’re Lockwoods. Who would dare lay a hand on them? Stop playing the victim. I sent them to a school to learn some discipline. Is that a reason to blow up my phone every five minutes?”

He paused, then delivered the final blow. “You make me sick, Reagan.”

He hung up before I could say a single word.

The silence in the sterile hospital hallway was absolute. Every one of his cruel words had landed, sharp and clear, in Sophie’s ears.

Her face was as white as the walls around us. Her lips moved, but no sound came out. She had no more reassurances to offer.

I forced a smile that felt like cracking glass, and the tears I’d been holding back finally fell, hot and heavy.

“Please,” I whispered again. “I have nothing left. Let me go. I can’t do this anymore.”

Just as Sophie opened her mouth to reply, two police officers approached us.

“Are you the family of the deceased?” one of them asked, his voice gentle. “The administrators from the academy have been taken into custody. We need you to come down to the station and give a statement.”

The moment I walked into the precinct, I saw them—the men who had dragged my screaming children from our home the day before.

Something inside me snapped. A guttural scream tore from my throat as I launched myself at them, my grief turning into a blind, animalistic rage.

“You monsters! You’re monsters! They were five years old! How could you do it? How could you!”

Hands grabbed me from all sides, pulling me back. Sophie wrapped her arms around me, holding my collapsing body.

“Reagan, please,” she sobbed. “Let the police handle this. They’ll get justice, I swear. With the Lockwood name behind this, those bastards don’t stand a chance.”

The men, startled by my frenzy, huddled in the corner. One of them muttered with a sneer, “Not our fault the mother didn’t raise them right.”

Another one chimed in. “It’s how we teach all the kids. Spare the rod, spoil the child. Who knew these two were so fragile? Just our bad luck…”

My hand, trembling violently, pointed at them. The fire in my chest was about to consume me. I wanted to rip them to shreds.

A metallic taste flooded my mouth. I coughed, a spray of dark blood staining the linoleum floor, and then the world went black.

When I woke up, I was in a bedroom at the Lockwood estate. Sophie was beside the bed, her eyes red and swollen.

“Reagan, you’re awake. Don’t worry, we’re handling everything with the police. We will make sure those animals pay for what they did.”

My eyes were fixed on the ornate ceiling, seeing nothing.

“Please, let me go,” I said, the words a hollow echo. “I have nothing left…”