Every morning, the nursery camera signal dropped while my mother cared for my sick wife. Suspecting something, I hid a secondary camera in the room. When I checked the feed the next day, I saw my mother standing over my wife, holding a syringe, and whispering, “This is for your own good…”

son,” I stated, the finality of the words ringing true in my own chest. “And right now, that means protecting them from you.”

I disabled the microphone.

While Chloe drove Abigail and Hugo to a quiet, secure suite at a downtown hotel, I made two phone calls. The first was to an emergency locksmith. The second was to a local taxi dispatch.

By the time I continue reading …