The next evening, I watched through the home security cameras as Tyler returned smiling, carrying a luxury shopping bag and acting as though nothing serious had happened. He called out casually for me, expecting another argument he could dismiss. But the house was silent.

When he reached the nursery, the smell of dried blood stopped him cold. The shopping bag fell from his hands as he stared at the dark stains covering the floor and the empty crib sitting in the center of the room. For the first time, real fear crossed his face.

Tyler collapsed to his knees and called emergency services, sobbing that his wife might be dead. That was when Isabel activated the smart speaker in the nursery, and my voice echoed through the room. I told him Parker and I were alive — and that we were never coming back.

He cried, begged, and claimed he had been confused, but I reminded him that he had seen the blood and heard me pleading for help before choosing whiskey and celebration instead. Then I informed him my lawyer had every second of the footage and every social media post from the weekend saved as evidence-