Part Three
The video haunted her.
Even after she deleted it — after she swore to herself she’d never look at it again — she could still see it.
That slow, deliberate turn of the lion’s head, the way its single eye gleamed just before the camera glitched to black.
It wasn’t the motion itself that scared her. It was the timing.
Right when the house went silent.
Right when she whispered, “Goodnight,” to no one.
As if the house had answered.
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For the next few days, Hannah tried pretending life was normal again. She cooked, cleaned, drove the kids to school. She even laughed once or twice at David’s jokes.
But she couldn’t step foot in the nursery.
Not when she could feel it — the steady pull of that room, like a current tugging her mind.
She’d walk past the doorway and swear she
