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…”

the crib with obsessive precision, and mapped out three distinct routes to the maternity ward, accounting for potential bridge closures. I had planned for every conceivable external variable.

But I had not planned for the enemy that would strike from within.

Chapter Two: The Red Tuesday

Hugo did not wait for the designated date on the calendar. He arrived continue reading …