Chapter 1: The Meal She Should Never Have Cooked
I wasn't supposed to be home early that afternoon, but what I found changed everything.
My wife was unconscious on the sofa.
Our six-month-old son was screaming beside her.
And my mother was sitting nearby, calmly eating the dinner my sick wife had prepared.
Then she muttered two words that finally made me understand exactly who she was.
I arrived home three hours early because a client meeting in downtown Portland had been canceled.
The moment I stepped through the front door, I heard Milo screaming.
Not fussing.
Screaming.
His little face was red inside the bassinet beside the sofa, his fists shaking.
Renata lay motionless on the couch, one arm hanging toward the floor.
"Renata?"
My briefcase hit the floor.
Ten feet away, my mother, Colette, sat at the dining table eating chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.
"Mom, what happened?"
She barely glanced up.
"She's being dramatic again."
I rushed to Renata and touched her cheek.
She was pale and clammy.
"Renata!
Wake up!"
Nothing.
I pulled out my phone, called 911, and lifted Milo into my free arm.
My mother sighed.
"Marcus, seriously?
She just wants attention."
I stared at her.
"What?"
"She said she felt dizzy while cooking.
Then she flopped down like some Victorian princess."
"Why was she cooking?"
Mom frowned as if the answer should have been obvious.
"Because I was hungry."
Renata had given birth only six months earlier.
She was still nursing.
For the past week, she had been battling a stomach infection and sleeping badly because Milo was teething.
My mother knew all of that.
"You made my sick wife cook for you?"
"I didn't make her do anything.
She needs to learn how to manage a household."
Then Colette looked toward my unconscious wife and muttered, "Drama queen."
Those two words changed everything.
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What will Marcus do next — and will Colette finally face what she's done?
Comment **"NEXT"** if you want Part 2.
