Chapter 3
On the surveillance feed, I watched them hunched over the cross, working with meticulous care.
Typically, preparing a religious artifact involves placing items like prayer cards, anointing oils, or scripture fragments inside.
These small keepsakes are meant to serve as blessings that amplify its spiritual power.
I wasn’t an expert, but I knew enough to recognize the process.
What they were doing, however, was anything but normal.
Caleb and Marissa carefully slid dark, charred objects into the hollow base of the cross.
Some oozed a thick, viscous liquid that looked disturbingly like blood.
They handled the objects as though they were toxic, their movements cautious and deliberate, making sure nothing
touched their skin.
Every few seconds, they glanced nervously toward my bedroom door, checking to ensure I wasn’t watching.
When they finished, their tension dissolved in an instant. Smirking, they high–fived each other like kids pulling off a
prank.
Caleb wrapped his arms around Marissa, and she let out a playful laugh, pretending to push him away.
I sat in my bedroom, holding my newborn daughter Ivy in my arms, staring at the screen in disbelief.
They didn’t even have the decency to hide their glee.
And then they crossed the final line.
Standing in my living room, mere feet from the cross meant to drain my daughter’s life, they started kissing.
Boldly. Shamelessly.
The air left my lungs.
My grip on Ivy tightened, her tiny warmth anchoring me as rage consumed me.
My blood boiled, my vision blurred, and it took every ounce of restraint I had not to storm out there and rip them apart with my bare hands.
But no.
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Chapter 3
Not yet.
If I confronted them now, I would only give them what they wanted.
A divorce would set Caleb free to be with Marissa openly, and that wasn’t justice.
It wasn’t even close to punishment.
I needed to be smarter than that.
Reaching for my phone, I hit record.
I captured it all–every furtive glance, every sinister touch, every damning moment of their ritual.
When their celebration finally ended, Caleb started toward the bedroom.
I barely had time to pull myself together before he opened the door.
Pretending to be asleep, I cradled Ivy close, my breathing steady and even.
He hesitated for a moment before quietly retreating with Marissa.
The instant they left, I locked the door and turned my attention to the cross.
This house didn’t have a functioning security system.
I’d wanted to upgrade it, but Caleb had always dismissed the idea, claiming it was a waste of money.
Now I understood the real reason–he needed the freedom to pull his stunts without leaving evidence behind.
Tonight, that oversight worked to my advantage.
Carefully, I opened the base of the cross.
My hands trembled as I pulled out a folded, yellowed piece of paper.
There it was–my daughter Ivy’s details.
Damn it.
The same information I’d seen in my past life, the same truth I’d learned far too late.
This cursed cross wasn’t just a symbol.
It was a weapon.
It was designed to drain the life force of the person named within, and it didn’t stop there.
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Chapter 3
It siphoned energy from their blood relatives as well.
Because Ivy was my child, the cross had been pulling from me, too.
My depression in my past life?
Now I understood. It wasn’t just grief. It was this.
Rage surged through me, hot and blinding.
But I forced it down.
I couldn’t afford to lose control.
Not when I had the power to fight back.
I took a picture of the paper and sent it to my assistant with specific instructions: replicate it exactly, but change the details to Caleb’s information.
If they wanted to play these games, then they could suffer the consequences themselves.
When the replacement arrived, I slipped it into the base of the cross and sealed it shut.
Then, I made a call to a private investigator to start compiling evidence of Caleb’s affair with Marissa.
Everything was set.
Now, all I had to do was wait.
But waiting didn’t mean doing nothing.
This time, I wouldn’t squander the second chance I’d been given.
This time, I wouldn’t let them win.
I glanced down at Ivy, fast asleep in my arms.
Her delicate features looked like a perfect reflection of mine–her tiny nose, her round cheeks, her little lips.
Even in sleep, her brow furrowed slightly, as though she could sense the weight of my emotions.
Flashes of her frail, wasted body from my past life overwhelmed me, the memory of her slow decline still sharp and excruciating.
Back then, she’d been reduced to a ghost of a child, like a starving kitten abandoned to die.
Tears rolled down my cheeks as I held her closer, pressing a kiss to her soft forehead.
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Not this time.
This time, I would do everything in my power to save her.
The next day, I took Ivy to the best pediatric specialist in the city.
After a thorough examination, the doctor finally gave me the words I so desperately needed to hear: Ivy wasn’t sick.
She was just a little undernourished.
With proper care and nutrition, she would grow up strong and healthy.
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, relief washing over me like a tidal wave.
For the first time in what felt like forever, my heart felt light.
My daughter was going to be okay.
As for Caleb and Marissa?
Their nightmare was just beginning.
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