At 5 a.m., he yanked me off the bed like I was trash. “Get up, you lazy cow! Pregnant or not, you cook for my parents—NOW!” he roared, spittle flying. Downstairs, his mother clapped. His father laughed. My stomach knotted, pain stabbing so hard my vision shattered. I hit the floor, tasting blood, hearing them joke above me. But they missed one thing—before the last punch stole my light, I sent a text. And it was already delivered.

The Silence Before the Siren

Chapter 1: The witching Hour

The digital clock on the nightstand read 5:00 AM, the red numbers glowing like predatory eyes in the darkness. My body was already awake, conditioned by fear, but my mind was drifting in that fragile space between a nightmare and the harsh reality of my marriage.

Then, the covers were ripped away. The cold air hit my skin first, followed immediately by the iron grip of Ryan’s hand around my wrist.

“Get up, you lazy cow! Pregnant or not, you cook for my parents—NOW!”

His voice wasn’t just loud; it was a roar that seemed to shake the foundation of the house. He yanked me upward, the motion so violent that my head snapped back. I scrambled for purchase on the mattress, my other hand instinctively flying to my abdomen, cradling the swell of my belly. Inside, the baby kicked—a sharp, frantic flutter. It was a frightened movement, as if the life growing inside me already understood the dangerous frequency of its father’s rage.