Chapter 2

I tore through the house for a solid half-hour. I checked under the sofa, deep inside the closets, the storage room, and even the washing machine. Oreo had vanished into thin air.

Oreo had been Leo's absolute favorite. During his agonizing days in the hospital, Leo insisted on video-calling every day just to watch the cat eat and sleep. After my son was gone, that Maine Coon became my sole emotional anchor in this cavernous, empty house.

I pulled up the living room security feed. The footage showed Declan returning home around three in the afternoon. He shoved a sleeping Oreo into a pet carrier and walked out the door with it.

Staring at Declan's pixelated face on the screen—a face I had once believed was my absolute bedrock—a wave of pure nausea washed over me.

First thing the next morning, I drove straight to the precinct.

Declan wasn't in his office. Instead, Kingsley was perched at his desk, sipping a latte and idly flipping through a case file.

At the sight of me, a flicker of panic crossed her eyes, but it was quickly swallowed by a smug, ill-concealed defiance.

"Maeve! What brings you here? Declan's in a morning briefing." Kingsley stood up.

I ignored the pleasantries, my gaze boring holes into her. "Where the hell did Declan take my cat?"

Kingsley let out a soft, theatrical gasp behind her hand before flashing a painfully innocent smile. "Oh, you mean that black-and-white cat? Didn't Declan tell you? I just found out I'm severely allergic to cat dander. My doctor said it's really bad for the ba—I mean, for my health. Declan felt so bad for me, so he gave it away yesterday."

"Gave it to whom?" I took a step closer.

"Just... to this homeless guy on South Street named Carl." Kingsley blinked rapidly, her tone sickeningly breezy. "I heard Carl is a real animal lover. He just loves 'playing' with cats. Declan said since Leo's already gone, keeping it around was just a morbid reminder for you. It was better to just dispose of it."

Carl on South Street.

Every single person in Boston Homicide and the Medical Examiner's Office knew exactly who Carl was—a textbook, sadistic animal abuser. He had dodged animal cruelty charges multiple times purely due to a lack of evidence. As a cop, there was zero chance Declan didn't know exactly what Carl was!

I never thought there would be a day where I completely lost my sanity, let alone that my own husband would be the one to push me over the edge!

Without a second of hesitation, I raised my hand and slapped Kingsley right across the face.

I put every ounce of my weight into it. Kingsley let out a shrill scream and crumpled onto the desk, knocking over her coffee cup and sending a splash of brown liquid all over herself.

"Are you crazy?! You hit me!" she shrieked, clutching her rapidly swelling cheek.

"Stop it! Maeve, what the hell are you doing?!"

Declan's furious roar tore through the doorway. He stormed in and violently shoved me back. I lost my footing, my lower back slamming brutally against the sharp corner of the desk. A piercing, white-hot pain instantly radiated through my entire body.

Declan didn't spare me a single glance. He frantically huddled Kingsley into his arms, glaring daggers at me. "Are you out of your psychotic mind? Kingsley is a defenseless girl! Why are you taking your temper out on her?!"

Gripping the edge of the desk, I forced myself to stand upright, staring at the pathetic pair in front of me.

"Declan. My husband. Giving away my dead son's cat to a known sadist without batting an eye, and now righteously defending the mistress who used voodoo to curse our child." I took a deep breath, suppressing the searing pain in my back. "You absolutely sicken me."

Declan's expression faltered. He looked like he wanted to explain. "The cat... I'll go get it back from Carl. Just stop being so hysterical—"

"Don't bother." I pulled the prepared document from my bag and hurled it right at his face.

"We're getting a divorce, Declan."

The papers scattered across the floor, the bold words "DIVORCE SETTLEMENT" glaring under the fluorescent lights. I turned and walked out.

"Maeve! You're going to regret this!" Declan roared behind me, his voice trembling with sheer outrage.

I didn't look back. There was only one thought screaming in my head: find Oreo. Now.

But by the time I made it to Carl's abandoned garage on South Street, it was too late.

Oreo was lying in a pool of his own blood, lifeless. His tiny body was covered in cigarette burns and knife wounds. I dropped to my knees, my hands shaking violently as I gathered him into my trembling arms.

That night, my phone rang. It was Liam.

"Maeve, turn on Twitter and the local news feed right now! Declan and Kingsley have lost their damn minds—they're doing a livestream from the morgue!"