Chapter 1 - ASK HIM HOW MUCH HE SAW
David Mercer knew something was wrong before he shut the apartment door.
The place was too quiet.
Not silent.
There was a difference.
A newborn apartment was never silent.
There should have been footsteps.
A television murmuring.
A bottle warmer humming.
His mother giving unsolicited advice from the kitchen.
His younger brother Mark talking too loudly on speakerphone.
Instead, David heard a baby screaming.
High.
Raw.
Exhausted.
Then a woman crying.
“Maya?”
His suitcase slipped from his hand.
He crossed the living room in three strides.
His wife sat at the small dining table in an oversized gray sweatshirt with one hand pressed against her lower abdomen and the other wrapped around a paper cup of instant noodles.
Maya looked nothing like the woman he had kissed goodbye six days earlier.
Her dark hair was unwashed and tied badly behind her head.
Her face was pale.
Her lips were cracked.
Her eyes were swollen.
Eleven-day-old Liam screamed from the bassinet beside her.
David froze.
“MAYA?!”
She looked up.
For one second, relief flooded her face.
Then humiliation.
That broke him faster than fear.
He rushed toward her.
“What happened?”
Maya tried to stand.
Pain stopped her halfway.
David caught her.
“Easy.”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
He looked around.
No diaper boxes.
No prepared bottles.
No casserole dishes his mother promised she would make.
No grocery bags.
Nothing.
His head snapped toward the hallway.
“Where’s my mother?”
Maya’s mouth trembled.
Then she started crying again.
“They went to Miami.”
David stared.
“What?”
“Your mom and Mark.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
His brain refused to accept the sentence.
Maya had undergone emergency abdominal surgery during Liam’s birth.
The obstetrician had been explicit.
No lifting.
Minimal stairs.
Regular meals.
Medication on schedule.
Another adult in the apartment for the first two weeks if possible.
David had to fly to Dallas for a six-day contract crisis.
He almost canceled.
His mother Eleanor insisted.
Go.
We’ve got her.
I’ll stay every night.
Mark can run errands.
Stop worrying.
David had believed her.
“Maya, why didn’t you call me?”
She looked down.
“Your mom said your client would fire you if I distracted you.”
David’s jaw tightened.
“She said what?”
“She said you were already stressed.”
Maya wiped her face.
“I thought I could handle it.”
Liam screamed harder.
David lifted him carefully.
The baby rooted desperately against his shirt.
“When did he eat?”
“About an hour ago.”
“What did you eat?”
Maya looked at the noodles.
David stared at the cup.
“That?”
Her silence answered.
He carried Liam to the kitchen.
Then yanked open the refrigerator.
Almost empty.
Half a carton of milk.
Mustard.
Two eggs.
A bruised apple.
Three bottles of water.
No fresh food.
No prepared meals.
No formula backup.
No breast-pump storage bags.
David slowly turned.
“I sent them fourteen thousand dollars.”
Maya looked confused.
“What?”
“Before I left.”
He put Liam back in the bassinet.
Then grabbed his phone.
“I transferred Mom fourteen thousand for food, medication, baby supplies, cleaning help, anything you needed.”
Maya’s face changed.
“She told me you only sent enough for groceries.”
David stared.
“How much did she spend here?”
“I don’t know.”
He opened the apartment security app.
The cameras covered the entry, living room, kitchen, hallway, and service elevator.
He had installed them after a break-in the previous year.
Eleanor knew they existed.
Apparently, she forgot they archived to cloud storage.
David jumped backward through the timeline.
Day one.
His mother carrying groceries in.
Mark carrying diapers.
Good.
Day two.
More bags.
A pharmacy delivery.
Then—
Day three.
Eleanor and Mark moving everything back out.
Cases of diapers.
Formula.
Frozen meals.
Cleaning supplies.
Baby wipes.
Maya’s prescription bag.
David stopped breathing.
“What the hell…?”
Maya stared over his shoulder.
On the screen, Mark wheeled a suitcase through the apartment.
Eleanor carried two expensive-looking shopping bags.
Then Mark took a sealed package from the kitchen counter.
David zoomed in.
His blood went cold.
It was the envelope containing Maya’s discharge paperwork and insurance information.
His phone rang.
ELEANOR.
David answered.
He said nothing.
His mother screamed first.
“WHY ARE OUR CARDS DECLINED?!”
David looked at Maya.
Then Liam.
The crying baby.
The empty refrigerator.
The cup of noodles.
His face went still.
He had frozen the family-linked credit cards twenty minutes earlier from the airport parking lot after seeing two Miami charges he did not recognize.
He had not understood the scale yet.
Now he did.
Eleanor shouted again.
“David! What did you do?”
He spoke quietly.
“I came home last night.”
A lie.
He had arrived thirty minutes ago.
Silence.
Then:
“And I watched the cameras.”
Another silence.
Longer.
Something moved near Eleanor’s phone.
A male voice whispered behind her.
May you like
Mark.
“Ask him how much he saw.”
