CHAPTER 3 — “THE FALL OF JULIETTE”
The silence that followed was not peaceful.
It was dangerous.
The kind of silence that comes right before everything breaks.
The mother looked at him.
“Tell me this is fake.”
The husband didn’t answer.
That was his answer.
The grandmother stepped forward suddenly.
“This is a mistake—documents can be forged—”
But Quincy cut her off.
“No,” he said quietly. “I saw you talk to the man who took her.”
The grandmother froze.
For the first time, her Bible slipped from her chest.
Quincy stepped closer to the mother.
“They said she was sick,” he whispered. “That she wouldn’t survive.”
A pause.
Then—
“But someone paid them to move her.”
The mother’s voice broke.
“Who?”
Quincy looked up.
And said one word.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just absolute.
“Grandma.”
The wind outside the hospital picked up.
A distant siren echoed.
The mother held the tiny bundle closer, as if afraid reality itself might take it away again.
The husband finally spoke.
“She was protecting the family name…”
But the mother shook her head.
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“This wasn’t protection.”
She looked down at the blue blanket.
“This was theft.”
Quincy suddenly stepped back.
Slow.
Intentional.
Like he had already said everything he needed to say.
The mother noticed.
“Quincy…?”
He didn’t look at her.
Instead, he looked past them.
At the hospital exit door.
The one marked STAFF ONLY.
And whispered something that froze everything again.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
The mother turned.
“Tell me what?”
Quincy’s hand slowly lifted.
Pointing at the door.
“They’re still inside.”
A long pause.
Then—
Footsteps.
May you like
From behind the door.
Getting closer.
