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xenyasplacex · 3 days ago

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Baby Trapped -Chapter 4

Warnings: Murder, physically abusive relationships, mentally abusive relationship, panic attacks, swearing, crying etc

Summary: Flashbacks

A/N: So bc chapter 3 took so long, here’s chapter 4

Chapter 3 — Chapter 5

8 years ago

The heavy scent of alcohol lingered in the air, clinging to the walls of the small house. The sun had set hours ago, but it was still bright in the living room from the flickering TV. Chris, Matt, and Nick, just 16 at the time, sat together in silence, their eyes glued to the screen as if the images playing there could distract them from the real-life horror unfolding just beyond the walls of their little bubble.

They could hear the shouting, muffled but unmistakable, coming from the kitchen. The door was cracked open, and the sound of their father’s voice raised in anger, followed by their mother’s terrified protests, sent a jolt through their spines. They’d heard it all before—loud, slurred words, threats, tears—but tonight felt different. Tonight, there was a sense of finality in the air, something heavy that none of them could shake.

Chris looked at Matt first, his face pale, brows furrowed with a mix of concern and fear. Matt was always the calm one, the protector, the one who would step in if things ever got too far. But even Matt, usually unshakable, looked rattled. Nick, sitting next to him, had a nervous energy in his eyes, his fingers tapping rapidly on his knees, his teeth gritted.

“You think we should… do something?” Chris whispered, his voice tight.

Matt shook his head, not looking at him. “I don’t know. I… I don’t know if there’s anything we can do.”

But Nick’s gaze was fixed on the door. His jaw clenched, his body tensing like a coiled spring, ready to act. He wanted to go in. They all did. But they knew, deep down, that their father’s rage was uncontrollable, that any attempt to intervene would likely make things worse, put them in harm’s way.

Then came a loud crash. A thud that echoed through the walls like a slap to the chest. Chris flinched, his heart racing. The noise was followed by the unmistakable sound of their mother’s sobbing, mixed with their father’s growl-like voice barking orders that only made her weep harder.

Something inside Nick snapped. Without another word, he stood up, his fists clenched at his sides, and started toward the kitchen door. Chris and Matt were on their feet in an instant, but Nick held up a hand, signaling them to stay back.

“Don’t,” Nick said, his voice low and steady. “We need to wait.”

But Chris was already moving toward him, a mix of panic and anger surging through him. “Nick, she’s… she’s scared. We can’t just sit here.”

Nick turned to look at his younger brother, his face contorted with frustration. “I know. But if we do something now, it’s gonna make it worse. You know that, right?”

Chris swallowed hard, feeling the tension in his throat as his eyes stung with unshed tears. “I can’t just let him do this.”

And as if the universe had decided to answer Chris’s fears, the front door suddenly slammed open. Their father’s voice roared through the house, filled with drunken fury. “I told you to shut the hell up, you goddamn bitch!”

Chris’s heart skipped a beat. That was the moment—everything before had been a warning, but now there was no more pretending, no more hiding. There was no going back.

They heard their mother scream. A scream so raw and desperate it rattled their very souls.

In that moment, Nick didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, pushing the door open, and the three boys rushed into the kitchen.

What they saw left them frozen in place. Their father, towering and wild-eyed, his shirt stained with beer and sweat, stood over their mother, who was crumpled on the floor. She was bloodied, bruises already swelling across her face. Her body trembled as she tried to crawl away, but their father was relentless, pulling her back by her hair, cursing her with every breath.

“Dad!” Nick shouted, his voice cracking. The sound seemed to snap their father out of his rage, if only momentarily. He turned, his eyes wild and filled with a venomous anger as he took a threatening step toward Nick.

“Get the hell out of here!” their father barked.

Chris felt the weight of his father’s glare like a physical blow, his body trembling as adrenaline coursed through him. But it was Matt, the older brother, who stood between their father and the rest of them. His chest heaved as he squared up to their dad, his voice calm but firm, despite the storm brewing inside him. “You need to stop, Dad. Right now.”

Their father’s response was a low growl, his hand still gripping their mother’s hair like a vice. “Don’t tell me what to do,” he snarled, and with one swift, violent motion, he threw their mother to the ground.

Nick was about to charge forward, but Matt grabbed his arm, pulling him back. “No, Nick. Don’t.”

And in that moment, it happened. Their father, out of control, took one final, horrifying step. He raised his hand, his fist like a hammer ready to strike.

Time seemed to slow. Chris heard a sickening sound, a wet slap, followed by the sound of his mother’s final breath as her body fell limp on the floor.

Everything stopped. Everything crashed.

Their father stood there, panting, his chest rising and falling in heavy gasps. His hands were shaking now, his rage spent but the damage done. The three boys stood frozen, staring at the lifeless body of their mother.

No one spoke for a long time. It felt like hours before Chris finally found his voice, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps.

“Dad…” he whispered, his voice breaking. “What… what did you do?”

But their father was already stumbling backward, realizing, too late, what he had done. His eyes flickered between his sons and their mother’s body, his expression twisting into something unrecognizable—rage, guilt, fear, and confusion all colliding in one sickening storm.

The world spun, and all the boys could do was watch.

Matt moved first, his hands trembling as he pulled Nick and Chris back. “Get out. Get out now!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “We’re leaving. We’re never coming back.”

And they did. They ran from the house, from the violence, from everything that had been their home. They didn’t look back. They couldn’t. But Nick was smart. He had already dialled 911. Letting the operator listen… to everything.

The courtroom was too bright, the fluorescent lights washing everything out in a cold, artificial glow. The air was thick, heavy, like it was pressing down on Chris’s chest, making it impossible to breathe.

He sat on the witness stand, his hands gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and his stomach was in knots, but he kept his face blank. He had to.

Nick and Matt were in the front row. Matt was gripping the edge of his seat, his jaw tight, his leg bouncing. Nick sat completely still, his eyes locked forward, fists clenched at his sides. Beside them, their aunt and uncle sat stiffly, their expressions unreadable.

And across the courtroom—

Their father.

Mark Sturniolo sat in his orange jumpsuit, wrists shackled, his face expressionless. Like he wasn’t even here. Like he wasn’t the reason they were all here.

Chris felt sick.

The prosecutor, a sharp-eyed woman with a firm voice, stood in front of him.

“Can you state your full name for the record?”

Chris swallowed the lump in his throat. “Christopher Owen Sturniolo.”

“And your relation to the defendant?”

His chest tightened. “He’s my father.”

The words tasted rotten.

The prosecutor gave a small nod. “Chris, I know this is difficult, but can you tell us what happened on the night of June 17th?”

Chris’s hands clenched. His breathing shallowed.

He didn’t want to do this.

Didn’t want to go back there.

But he had to.

He inhaled shakily. “We were in the living room,” he said, his voice quiet, but steady. “Me, Nick, and Matt. We heard them arguing in the kitchen. We… we always knew what was coming.”

“And then?”

His fingers dug into his knees.

“We heard something break,” Chris continued, voice thinner now. “That’s when we got up. Went into the kitchen.”

His breath hitched.

“And he was already on her.”

The courtroom was silent.

Too silent.

“He was hitting her,” Chris forced out. “Over and over. She tried to fight back, but he was too strong. He—” His throat closed. His chest tightened like a vise. “He didn’t stop.”

He could feel his father’s eyes on him.

Chris’s whole body went stiff.

“And then he snapped,” Chris whispered.

His lungs felt like they were shrinking.

His vision blurred at the edges.

And suddenly, it was like he was there again.

Right back in that kitchen.

His mother’s screams tearing through the air.

The thud of her body hitting the floor.

The way her eyes—those warm, gentle eyes that had looked at him with love, with kindness, with everything good in the world—had gone dull.

Chris’s breath hitched violently. His chest caved in.

“He killed her,” he whispered.

And then something inside him snapped.

“You killed her!”

The words exploded out of him.

The entire courtroom jerked.

Chris shot up from his seat, ripping the microphone off the stand, his breath heaving, his hands shaking violently.

“YOU KILLED HER!”

“Mr. Sturniolo!” the judge barked, hammering his gavel.

Chris didn’t hear him.

Didn’t hear anything.

“You took everything from us!” Chris’s voice wasn’t human anymore. It was raw, shredded to nothing.

Nick stood, but Chris was already moving.

His body lunged before his brain could stop it.

He jumped off the stand.

Charged.

His father’s face barely flickered before the guards grabbed Chris mid-air, slamming him back down to the floor.

His breath punched out of him, but he kept struggling, kicking, thrashing against the arms restraining him.

“YOU’RE A MONSTER!” Chris shrieked, voice breaking apart, body convulsing with fury, with grief, with something

that was eating him alive.

“YOU TOOK HER FROM US!”

Chris thrashed so hard his back slammed against the courtroom floor. His arms were pinned, but his legs kicked wildly, trying to break free. His breathing was erratic—ragged, too fast, too uneven—and his throat burned from screaming. His whole body felt like it was tearing apart from the inside.

“YOU TOOK EVERYTHING!” His voice cracked, collapsing into a choked, guttural sob.

The guards were struggling to hold him down, their voices a distant, muffled noise behind the roaring in his head. He couldn’t stop shaking.

Nick and Matt were suddenly there, forcing their way through the chaos.

“Chris—Chris, stop!” Matt grabbed his shoulders, dropping down beside him, trying to hold him steady. “It’s over! It’s over!”

“LET ME GO!” Chris screamed, his body buckling violently against them.

“Chris—” Nick’s voice was sharper, firmer. “You’re gonna hyperventilate—”

“MURDER! MURDER!”

Chris let out a broken, agonized wail. His vision blurred, and then suddenly—

His body collapsed.

He wasn’t fighting anymore.

Wasn’t moving.

Just shaking, gasping, sobbing so hard that his entire chest seized up, his breath cutting off in short, panicked gasps.

Nick and Matt were on him immediately, gripping his arms, pulling him up, holding him together.

“I c-can’t breathe,” Chris wheezed, his face crumpling, his body folding in on itself.

“You’re okay,” Matt said quickly, rubbing circles into his back, his voice tight with panic. “You’re okay, just breathe, Chris—just breathe—”

Chris let out another wretched, gut-deep sob, his entire soul splitting open. His fingers dug into Matt’s jacket, clutching at him like a lifeline.

Nick crouched beside him, gripping the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together. “You’re not alone,” he murmured. “We’ve got you. We’ve got you, okay?”

Chris couldn’t answer.

He just cried.

The weight of everything—nine months of grief, of rage, of agony, of guilt—came crashing down all at once.

He sobbed until his chest hurt, until his throat was raw, until there was nothing left inside of him but empty, suffocating exhaustion.

And across the courtroom—

Their father, Mark Callahan, watched in silence.

Expressionless.

Until, at last, he sighed, slumped forward, and said four words:

“I’ll change my plea.”

The courtroom fell into stunned silence.

Chris was still shaking, still crying into Matt’s shoulder, still clutching onto Nick like he’d fall apart if he let go—but those four words made the air feel thicker, heavier.

Their father, Mark Callahan, sat there, wrists chained to the table, looking eerily calm.

The judge adjusted his glasses, eyes sharp. “Mr. Callahan, can you confirm what you just said?”

Mark sighed, slowly nodding. “I’ll change my plea.”

A murmur rippled through the courtroom. The prosecution attorneys exchanged glances, and Chris barely heard the judge addressing the defense, confirming the plea change from Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity to Guilty of Second-Degree Murder.

Chris could feel Nick’s grip tightening, could feel Matt tense beside him, but all he could do was stare at his father through blurry, tear-stained eyes.

Mark didn’t look at him.

Not once.

He kept his head down, hands folded neatly on the table, like he hadn’t just destroyed their entire world nine months ago.

Like he wasn’t the reason their mother was dead.

Like he wasn’t the reason Chris had just broken in front of an entire courtroom.

Chris’ hands clenched into fists, his entire body trembling with raw, leftover adrenaline.

Then, the judge’s gavel slammed down.

“Court is adjourned.”

It was over.

But Chris didn’t feel any better.

Didn’t feel lighter.

Didn’t feel anything at all.

Nick and Matt helped him to his feet, still holding onto him, still keeping him steady, and as they turned to leave, Chris risked one last glance back at their father.

Mark still wouldn’t look at him.

And somehow, that hurt more than anything else.

After the trial, the boys were placed in the care of their Aunt Mary-Lou and Uncle Jimmy, who took them in without hesitation. Their home was smaller, quieter, but safe—something they hadn’t felt in a long time. At 17, desperate for a distraction, they started a YouTube channel, filming whatever they could: dumb challenges, video games, even late-night talks about life. People watched. People cared. And for the first time since their mother died, they felt like they had something of their own.

By 18, they’d saved enough money to move out on their own, packing up everything they had and heading to California, chasing a future that felt bigger than their past. It wasn’t easy—nothing ever was—but they had each other. And after everything, that was the only thing that really mattered.

They always say time heals every wound, and in some ways, it has. Chris could think of his mother’s death without breaking down, without having a panic attack, without sobbing and crying for hours. But there was always one memory that wouldn’t leave Chris. One thing that he couldn’t shake not matter how hard he tried

He was thirteen , sitting at the kitchen table in their cramped house, a plate of food in front of him untouched. Their father had taken Matt and Nick to lacrosse practice, but Chris stayed home because ‘he didn’t feel well.’ The air was thick, like it always was on nights when things weren’t right—when his father’s temper had flared up and everyone felt the tension ripple through the house.

His mom sat across from him, her face weary but trying to put on a brave face. She always tried to act like everything was fine, even when it was so clearly falling apart. She never wanted him to see how broken she was, how lost she had become in her marriage.

“Chris,” she started, her voice soft but strained, as if saying the words out loud took every ounce of her energy. “You need to understand something… something that I’m not sure I’ve ever said out loud.”

Chris looked up, meeting her gaze. There was a sadness in her eyes that he’d never noticed before. A quiet plea, hidden beneath the surface.

“What’s that, Mom?” he asked, unsure of where this conversation was headed.

She sighed, rubbing her hands together nervously, avoiding eye contact for a moment before forcing herself to meet his eyes again. “I don’t want you to ever be in the position I’m in. I want you to understand that you don’t owe anyone everything. Not like I did.”

Chris frowned, not fully grasping what she was trying to say. “But you… you love Dad. You’ve always tried to keep us together.”

Her lips trembled slightly, but she swallowed hard, trying to steady herself. “Love isn’t enough, Chris. You can’t make everything work just by wanting it. You have to know when to walk away. I’ve stayed too long… and now I don’t know how to leave.”

Chris’s chest tightened. “You can leave, Mom. You don’t have to stay if it’s bad.”

She shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s not that simple. Sometimes… sometimes love can make you forget who you are. It can make you forget your worth. I don’t want that for you. I don’t want you to make the same mistake I made.”

Chris swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her words sink in, but also feeling confused. “You’re not making any sense. If you want to leave, why don’t you just… go?”

His mom hesitated for a moment before she spoke again, her voice cracking as she forced the words out. “Because, sometimes… it’s not just about leaving. It’s about being strong enough to make that choice for yourself. It’s about knowing your worth. Don’t ever let someone make you feel like you’re trapped, Chris. Don’t let them break you like they’ve done to me.”

The words echoed in his mind now, as they often did when his life with Aaliyah had gotten complicated. He had pushed them aside, thinking that somehow, he was different. But now, they felt like a prophecy he couldn’t escape. His mom had tried to warn him. She had tried to teach him how to stand up for himself, how to avoid the very trap he was walking into.

A chill ran down his spine as he remembered her soft voice, telling him to never be in her position—to never feel like there was no way out.

But here he was.

Trying to convince himself that he couldn’t leave, even though the truth was, maybe he didn’t know how.

“Don’t make the same mistake I did,” his mom had said.

Chris closed his eyes now, the memory of her warning mixing with the fear in his chest. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to break free, to walk away from everything he had built with Aaliyah. But deep down, he knew his mother had been right. She had stayed too long, and in the end, it destroyed her.

He couldn’t let that happen to him.

A/N:

Chapter 3 — Chapter 5

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xenyasplacex · 3 days ago

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THANK YOU LOVEEEEE, CHAPTER 4 OUT IN 10 MINUTES 💞

Baby Trapped— Chapter 3

Summary: Another Sacrifice has to be made

Warnings: Physical abuse, emotional Abuse, Chris having a horrible partner, Swearing, crying

i think that’s it, if i’ve missed anything please let me know

A/N: HEYYYYYYY….so urm…this is really late. I apologise. Pls don’t murder me xx

Chris sat in the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His chest ached, and his vision blurred from the tears he tried so desperately to hold back. Adriana babbled softly in the backseat, completely unaware that her father had just cut ties with the only family he had ever truly known.

He felt hollow. Numb. The weight of Aaliyah’s words echoed in his mind

“You don’t need them, Chris. You need me.”

Then why did it feel like a part of him had just died?

The car ride home was quiet, except for the occasional sniffle that escaped Chris. He couldn’t let Adriana see him break down, even though it felt inevitable. As he pulled into the driveway of their home, he exhaled shakily, trying to gather himself before stepping inside.

He had no idea what version of Aaliyah would be waiting for him.

Would it be the woman who smiled sweetly and kissed him like he was the only person in the world? Or would it be the tyrant who left him with bruises and a fractured body… and soul?

As he stepped through the front door, Aaliyah was already sitting on the couch, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone like nothing had happened. When she heard him enter, she turned to face him with an expectant look.

“Well?” she asked.

Chris swallowed the lump in his throat. “It’s done,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Aaliyah grinned, standing up and walking towards him. She cupped his face, her thumbs brushing over the faint remains of his bruises. “See?” she cooed. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Chris didn’t respond. He couldn’t.

She sighed, rolling her eyes before taking Adriana out of his arms. “Dinner’s in the fridge if you’re hungry,” she said nonchalantly before heading upstairs.

Chris stood frozen in the entryway, feeling like a stranger in his own home. The walls felt like they were closing in, suffocating him. His mind screamed at him to leave, to run, to take his daughter and never look back. But his body refused to move.

Instead, he found himself walking to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face. He gripped the edges of the sink, staring at his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot, his face hollow, his skin paler than usual. He barely recognized himself anymore.

“You’re pathetic.” Aaliyah’s voice echoed in his mind. “A coward.”

Chris let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. Maybe she was right. Maybe he was a coward. If he wasn’t, why hadn’t he left? Why had he let her strip away every piece of his identity until all that remained was… this?

A shell of the person he used to be.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. His heart leapt as he pulled it out, praying it wasn’t Aaliyah checking in to make sure he wasn’t talking to his brothers. But when he looked at the screen, his stomach dropped.

Nick: I know you’re not gonna answer, but when you finally realize the truth, we’ll be here. We’re never gonna stop fighting for you.

Chris’s breath hitched, his thumb hovering over the message. He wanted so badly to respond, to tell his brothers how much he missed them already, how much he hated himself for what he’d done. But he knew if Aaliyah ever found out, she’d make good on her threat. She’d take Adriana away from him.

And that? That was something he couldn’t survive.

So with a deep, shuddering breath, Chris deleted the message. And with it, the last remaining piece of himself.

He started at himself in the mirror, really started at himself. Then he let out a low sob… then another… then he completely and utterly broke down.

The house in San Diego was big. Bigger than Chris expected. The high ceilings and massive windows made it feel cold and empty, despite the expensive furniture Aaliyah had picked out. The dark brown wood floors— the ones he’d been punished for having an opinion on— creaked slightly under his feet as he carried the last of the moving boxes inside.

“Be careful with that,” Aaliyah snapped from the kitchen. “It’s fragile.”

Chris didn’t even respond. He just set the box down and exhaled, his hands resting on his hips as he took in his new reality. This was it. His new home. His new life. No brothers just a short drive away, no safe place to run when things got bad.

Just him, Aaliyah, and the daughter he was trying so hard to protect.

Adriana was in the living room, playing with the few toys Chris had unpacked for her. She was giggling to herself, stacking blocks and knocking them over, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. She didn’t have a care in the world, didn’t seem to understand the danger she was in. Chris envied her.

“Chris, are you even listening to me?” Aaliyah’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He turned to face her.

Aaliyah sighed, rolling her eyes. “I said, we need to start setting up Adriana’s room today. I don’t want her sleeping in our bed anymore. She’s getting too old for that.”

Chris hesitated. Back home, whenever Adriana had nightmares, she’d crawl into bed with him, curling up against his chest as he stroked her hair until she fell asleep. It was the only time he ever really felt at peace.

“I don’t know if she’s ready—”

“She is ready.” Aaliyah cut him off sharply. “You baby her too much. She needs to learn independence, Chris.”

Chris clenched his jaw, but he nodded anyway. There was no point in arguing. There never was.

Hours passed as they unpacked more boxes. Aaliyah gave orders, and Chris followed them like a well-trained soldier. He barely registered what he was doing anymore— just moving, organizing, doing whatever he could to keep the peace.

By the time Adriana’s room was set up, the sky outside had turned dark. She was curled up in her new bed, hugging her stuffed elephant, her little chest rising and falling peacefully. Chris sat beside her, brushing her curls away from her face.

“I love you, Adi,” he whispered.

She stirred slightly, blinking up at him with sleepy eyes. “Love you too, Daddy,” she mumbled before drifting off again.

Chris stayed there for a moment, just watching her. He wished he could freeze time— stay right here, just him and his daughter, where everything was safe. But reality was waiting for him just outside that bedroom door.

And sure enough, when he finally stepped into the hallway, Aaliyah was there.

“Chris, come to bed,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

He hesitated. A part of him wanted to tell her no, that he wanted to sleep on the couch, that he needed space. But that part of him had no fight left. So he nodded and followed her to their bedroom.

As he lay in bed beside her, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, Aaliyah rested her head on his chest, tracing lazy patterns on his skin. To anyone else, they might look like a couple in love. But Chris knew better.

“You made the right choice, you know,” she murmured against his skin. “Cutting them off. It’s just us now, the way it should be.”

Chris didn’t say anything. He just kept staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of his choices suffocate him.

He had done what she asked. He had sacrificed everything.

So why did he feel more trapped than ever?

The next morning

Nick sat in the passenger seat of Matt’s car, gripping his phone as the little blue dot on the screen slowly moved south.

“I knew he wouldn’t get rid of the car,” Nick muttered. “She probably forced him to block us, delete our numbers, cut off every possible contact, but she forgot about the one thing Apple never fails at— AirTags.”

Matt, gripping the steering wheel, squinted at the road. “Are we really sure about this?” he asked. “Like, really sure? Because I feel like we’re two seconds away from committing an actual crime.”

Nick scoffed. “Since when do you care about crime?”

“I don’t know, Nick, maybe since we’re literally tracking our brother like two psychopaths in a rental car.”

Nick waved him off. “Relax, we’re just checking in. We don’t have to do anything, we just… need to make sure he’s okay. Besides, if we were actually criminals, would we have stopped for snacks?” He pointed to the open bag of Doritos in Matt’s lap.

Matt sighed. “Fair point.”

They had planted the AirTag under the backseat of Chris’s car, i was a long shot— they weren’t even sure he still had the car after moving— but the moment they saw his location pop up, they knew they had to go.

The problem? He was four hours away.

“Okay, okay,” Matt said, refocusing. “We’ve been driving for, what, 3 hours now? Where’s he at?”

Nick zoomed in on the map. “Still in San Diego… looks like he’s at… oh, great. A HomeGoods…that one” He said, pointing to a huge furniture store.

Matt blinked. “HomeGoods?”

Nick groaned, tossing his phone onto the dashboard. “She’s got him furniture shopping, Matt. Chris hates furniture shopping. remember when he refused to furnish his room because he didn’t want to go to a furniture store until he was old and saggy?…She’s broken him.”

Matt gasped dramatically, making fun on Nick. “Oh my God. Do you think he’s picking out decorative pillows right now?”

“Worse. I bet he’s debating curtain patterns.”

Matt shook his head. “Nah. Not my brother. Not Christopher Sturniolo. This is worse than I thought. We need a plan.”

Nick crossed his arms, going back to the actual matter at hand. “Okay, obviously we can’t just storm into HomeGoods and rescue him—”

Matt smirked. “Can’t we?”

Nick gave him a look. “No, Matt, we can’t. That’s how we end up on national news. What we can do is wait outside, see if he’s alone, and—”

Before he could finish, the AirTag location updated. Chris’s car was moving again.

“Shit! He’s leaving!” Nick shouted. “We gotta go, we gotta go!”

Matt threw the car into drive so fast that Nick nearly slammed into the dashboard. “Follow them!” he yelled.

For the next fifteen minutes, they tailed Chris’s car through the streets of San Diego, keeping a safe distance like they were undercover FBI agents.

“Dude, he drives so slow,” Matt muttered.

“He’s got a kid in the car,” Nick reminded him.

Chris’s car eventually pulled into a quiet neighborhood. They watched from a few houses down as he got out, lifting Adriana from her car seat while Aaliyah walked ahead into the house.

There he was. Their little brother. Right in front of them.

Nick and Matt sat in silence for a moment, watching Chris disappear into the house.

“…So now what?” Matt asked.

Nick sighed, rubbing his face. “I have no idea.”

They had tracked him down. But getting him back? That was going to take more than an AirTag. Nick and Matt sat in the car, staring at Chris’s new house like two FBI agents on a stakeout.

“We should just go knock on the door,” Matt said.

Nick turned to him with the most are-you-stupid expression he could muster. “Yeah, great idea, Matt. And then Aaliyah calls the cops, we get arrested for trespassing, and Chris has even more of a reason to cut us off.”

Matt groaned, slumping in his seat. “Then what do we do, genius?”

Nick drummed his fingers on the dashboard, thinking. “We need a plan.”

“You need a plan,” Matt corrected. “I was ready to storm HomeGoods.”

Nick ignored him, watching the house. Chris had gone inside, but his car was still parked in the driveway. That meant he wasn’t planning on going anywhere soon.

“I say we wait a little,” Nick suggested. “Maybe catch him when he takes the trash out or something.”

Matt scoffed. “You really think Aaliyah lets Chris take out the trash?”

“…Good point.”

The two sat in silence for another minute, watching the house like professional spies. Then, Matt suddenly perked up. “Wait! I got it.”

Nick sighed. “Oh God.”

“No, seriously, listen,” Matt said, eyes lighting up. “What if we order him a pizza?”

Nick blinked. “What?”

“Think about it,” Matt said excitedly. “We send a pizza to his house, but when the delivery guy shows up, we’re the delivery guys.”

Nick stared at him for a long moment. “You want us… to pretend to be Domino’s?”

Matt grinned. “Exactly.”

“…That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, what’s your great idea?”

Nick thought about it for a second. “…I can’t believe you’re going to make me do this..”

Matt smiled. “I mean, what’s he gonna do? Not open the door for a pizza?”

Twenty Minutes Later

Nick and Matt stood outside Chris’s front door, decked out in their very professional pizza delivery disguises— which consisted of the sweats they were already wearing, baseball caps and sunglasses they found in the car.

“This is so stupid… we don’t even look like delivery guys, and when have you ever seen 2 people deliver 1 pizza.,” Nick muttered.

Matt knocked on the door. “Too late now.”

Footsteps. The door cracked open.

Chris stood there. His face was unreadable, just… staring at them.

Nick cleared his throat. “Uh. Pizza delivery?”

Chris blinked.

Matt held up the box. “Large pepperoni?”

Still nothing. Chris just stared. His expression unreadable, like he couldn’t decide if this was actually happening or if he was hallucinating from stress.

Then— footsteps.

Aaliyah’s voice, getting closer. “Chris? Who’s at the door?”

Chris’s eyes widened. Without hesitation, he snatched the pizza box out of Matt’s hands, shoved a crumpled twenty-dollar bill at them, and slammed the door shut.

Nick and Matt stood there, frozen.

“…Did he just—”

“—Yeah.”

A long silence.

Matt sniffled. “At least he paid for the pizza.”

Nick and Matt stood there in stunned silence, staring at the closed door like it had just personally betrayed them.

“…Did he seriously just take the pizza and shut the door in our faces?” Nick finally asked, his voice full of disbelief.

Matt sniffed dramatically. “Not even a ‘Hey guys, I miss you’ or ‘Wow, thanks for risking your dignity to bring me pizza.’ Just boom— door in the face.”

Nick crossed his arms. “Unbelievable. We raised him better than this.”

Matt turned to him. “We didn’t raise him.”

“We basically did,” Nick argued. “I mean, we share DNA. That’s like— I don’t know, a third of parenting.”

Matt rubbed his temples. “Okay, genius, what now? Because our brilliant plan just ended with us getting paid like actual pizza delivery guys.”

Nick thought for a second, then smirked. “We spy.”

Matt groaned. “Nick, we can’t just spy on him.”

Nick pointed at him. “That’s exactly what we can do.”

Inside the House

Chris stood in his living room, holding the pizza box like it was a bomb about to go off. Across from him, Aaliyah was eyeing him suspiciously.

“Who was that?” she asked, arms crossed.

Chris forced a laugh. “Uh… just the pizza guy.”

Aaliyah narrowed her eyes. “They looked weirdly familiar.”

Chris shrugged, opening the box as casually as possible. “Yeah, I dunno. Maybe you’ve just seen too many pizza guys.”

She didn’t look convinced, but before she could question him further, their daughter Adriana toddled in, saw the pizza, and gasped dramatically. “PIZZA!”

Chris immediately seized the distraction. “Yes! Pizza! Let’s eat!”

Aaliyah shot him one last suspicious look but let it go, sitting down at the table. Chris let out a quiet breath of relief.

He had barely gotten away with that.

Meanwhile…

Nick and Matt were crouched in the bushes outside like two of the worst spies in history.

Nick held up his phone, zooming in on Chris’s window. “I can see him. He’s eating our pizza like we’re just some random Uber Eats drivers.”

Matt sighed, adjusting his position. “Do you think he’s actually okay? I mean… the dude flinched when we showed up.”

Nick’s face hardened. “No. He’s not okay.”

Matt looked at him. “Then what do we do?”

Nick exhaled, watching through the window as Chris laughed at something Adriana said. It was forced. Fake.

Nick shook his head. “We get him back.”

Chris sat at the dining table, picking at his slice of pizza while Aaliyah scrolled through her phone across from him. Adriana was happily munching on a piece of crust, humming some tune she made up. The moment should have felt normal, domestic even, but Chris couldn’t shake the tension in his chest.

Aaliyah had barely said a word to him since he sat down. That was never a good sign.

Finally, she set her phone down with a sigh and looked at him. “So, who was really at the door?”

Chris froze mid-bite. “I told you. The pizza guy.”

Aaliyah leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “Chris. I’m not stupid.”

Chris swallowed hard, feeling the familiar dread creep up his spine. He kept his tone even. “Ali, it was just the pizza guy.”

She stared at him, unblinking. “Then why did you look like you saw a ghost when you opened the door?”

Chris’s grip on his crust tightened. “I—” He scrambled for an excuse. “I wasn’t expecting the food to come that fast.”

Aaliyah scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Adriana looked up at the word. “Bullshit!” she repeated cheerfully.

Chris and Aaliyah both whipped their heads toward her.

“Adi, no,” Chris said quickly, eyes wide. “That’s a bad word.”

Adriana just giggled and went back to eating, completely unbothered.

Aaliyah sighed in frustration and pushed her plate away. “Look, I don’t know what you’re hiding, but if I find out you went behind my back, Chris…” She trailed off, letting the weight of her words hang in the air.

Chris forced himself to meet her gaze, nodding as if he wasn’t completely unraveling inside. “I swear, I’m not hiding anything.”

Aaliyah studied him for another long moment before finally leaning back in her chair. “Good. Because I’m so sick of feeling like I can’t trust you.”

Chris nodded again, chewing his food mechanically, pretending her words didn’t feel like a slow knife to the gut.

Lying to Aaliyah never ended well.

But telling the truth?

That could be even worse.

Chris lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. He could still feel the weight of Aaliyah’s stare from dinner, like she had burned her suspicion into his skin. He knew her too well—she wasn’t going to drop it. She was going to watch him, wait for him to slip up.

And if she found out Nick and Matt had been here?

He didn’t even want to think about what would happen.

Aaliyah shifted beside him, scrolling on her phone, the brightness illuminating her face in the dim room.

“Chris,” she said suddenly, not looking away from the screen.

His whole body tensed. “Yeah?”

“You changed your passcode.”

Chris’s heart nearly stopped.

“What?” he asked, forcing confusion into his voice.

Aaliyah turned her phone off and looked at him. “I tried to check something earlier, and it was different.”

Chris swallowed. He had changed it—just last week. He had told himself it was just to have a little privacy, just in case. But now, hearing Aaliyah say it out loud, it felt like he had committed a crime.

“I—I must’ve forgotten to tell you,” he said quickly. “I can change it back.”

Aaliyah didn’t blink. “Why’d you change it in the first place?”

Chris felt the mattress beneath him turn into quicksand. “I don’t know. Just… thought I should.”

Aaliyah sat up slightly, tilting her head. “You don’t know?” she repeated, voice sharp.

Chris exhaled, rubbing his face. “Ali, it’s not a big deal. You can have the new one.”

“That’s not the point, Chris,” she snapped. “The point is you didn’t tell me. You hid it. What else are you hiding?”

Chris clenched his jaw. This was how it always went—she would dig and dig until he had nothing left to give. Until she backed him into a corner so tight he couldn’t breathe.

“You know what? Forget it,” she said bitterly, throwing the blanket off her legs as she got up.

Chris sat up. “Ali—”

“I’m taking a shower,” she cut him off, grabbing a towel and heading to the bathroom.

The second the door shut, Chris let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. He rubbed his hands over his face, heart pounding.

This wasn’t going to end here.

She wasn’t going to let it go.

And if she kept pushing—if she really figured out what he was hiding—he was screwed.

The night had settled into a deep silence, the kind that made every creak in the house sound louder than it should. Chris stood in his bedroom, staring out the window, watching the headlights of a car parked at the end of the driveway. Matt and Nick had been sitting out there for what felt like forever, looking like they had no intention of leaving anytime soon.

Chris swallowed hard. He knew what this meant—they weren’t giving up. They were here, outside his house, waiting for him to make a decision. Waiting for him to tell them what was really going on.

But he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

He took a deep breath, leaning against the window frame. His pulse quickened as he saw Matt and Nick talking, their heads close together, probably strategizing, probably trying to figure out how they were going to get him to crack.

They weren’t going to leave without a fight.

Chris glanced around the room, his mind racing. He knew he had to get out there, but not yet—not yet.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he quietly opened his bedroom door, trying not to make a sound. The last thing he needed was Aaliyah hearing him sneak out.

He tiptoed down the hallway, his heart pounding in his chest. When he reached the front door, he peeked out through the blinds and saw Matt and Nick standing by the car, looking up at the house like they were expecting him.

Come on, Chris, he thought. Just tell them to go.

He reached for the door handle and quietly stepped outside, the cool air hitting him like a shock to his system. He carefully closed the door behind him, not wanting to alert Aaliyah to his movements.

“Matt. Nick,” he called out in a low voice, his heart pounding in his ears.

They both turned, surprised, but their faces softened when they saw it was him. Nick’s eyes widened, and Matt’s face immediately lit up.

“There you are, man!” Nick said, his voice a mix of relief and frustration. “We’ve been waiting for hours. What the hell, dude?”

Chris held up a hand, glancing around nervously. “What are you doing here?” he whispered. “You need to go. Now.”

Matt leaned forward. “Chris, you’re not fooling anyone. We know something’s going on. You’re not okay, and we can see it.”

Chris shook his head, taking a step back toward the house. “I can’t do this right now. Aaliyah’s in there. If she finds out, it’s over.”

Nick crossed his arms. “What’s over? I mean, seriously Chris, you really think you can just cut us off like this and act like nothing’s wrong?”

Chris clenched his fists at his sides. “I don’t have a choice. You need to leave.”

Matt took another step closer. “Chris—”

Chris cut him off, his voice harder now. “Listen to me! You need to go.”

There was a long silence as Nick and Matt exchanged glances, both of them looking like they were weighing their options. Chris could see the concern in their eyes, but he also saw the frustration, the hurt… and the fact that they weren’t going to leave without something…anything from him.

“Fine,” Chris muttered, his voice quieter now. “Meet me tomorrow. Denny’s. Midnight.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Denny’s?”

“Yeah, Denny’s,” Chris snapped, not having the energy to argue. “I’ll meet you there, but right now, I need you to leave.”

Matt looked like he wanted to say something, but Chris didn’t give him the chance.

“Just go,” he urged, his tone softer. “Please.”

Nick let out a frustrated sigh but nodded. “Fine. We’ll be there.”

With that, Chris turned and walked quickly back toward the house, not daring to look back. He could hear them talking in hushed voices behind him, but he didn’t want to hear it.

When he closed the door behind him, his heart was still racing. He stood there for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. He couldn’t believe he had agreed to meet them.

But he knew he had no choice. They were his brothers, and no matter what he had to do to protect his daughter, they had to know the truth.

He had to face it sooner or later.

He just hoped tomorrow didn’t come too soon.

Chris barely slept that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Matt and Nick standing outside, their faces full of concern, their words echoing in his head. We know something’s wrong.

He knew they wouldn’t let this go.

By the time morning rolled around, Chris felt like a zombie. Aaliyah barely looked at him as she got ready for the day, which, honestly, was a blessing. The last thing he needed was her picking up on his nerves.

“Don’t forget, we have a meeting with the interior designer at three,” she reminded him flatly as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

Chris simply nodded, staring at the steam rising from her mug, pretending to care.

“Also,” Aaliyah continued, scrolling through her phone, “I want to start looking at preschools for Adriana soon. Somewhere nice, not one of those basic-ass ones where they just let the kids finger paint all day.”

Chris blinked, forcing himself to engage. “Yeah… makes sense.”

Aaliyah side-eyed him. “You good? You look like shit.”

Chris forced a laugh. “Didn’t sleep well.”

Aaliyah just hummed in response, clearly uninterested in further conversation. Good.

Chris kept his routine as normal as possible. He helped Adriana with breakfast, took a shower, and went through the motions of his day. But the whole time, his mind was stuck on one thing—midnight at Denny’s.

The hours dragged. Every minute felt like an eternity. He spent the day dodging Aaliyah’s mood swings, pretending to care about kitchen backsplash colors, and making sure he didn’t say the wrong thing. By the time night rolled around, he was exhausted.

Adriana was asleep by ten. Aaliyah crashed not long after, but Chris waited. He had to be sure she was fully out before he made a move.

By 11:30, the house was dead silent.

Chris sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the clock, his leg bouncing anxiously. He knew sneaking out was a risk, but he had to do it.

Carefully, he stood up, tiptoeing to the dresser where he had left his keys earlier. He held his breath as he picked them up, terrified that the small clink of metal would wake her.

Nothing.

He exhaled slowly and moved toward the bedroom door.

One step.

Two steps.

Aaliyah stirred slightly in bed, shifting onto her side. Chris froze, barely breathing, waiting to see if she would wake up.

After a few long seconds, she was still.

Chris pushed forward.

He slipped out of the bedroom and down the hall, avoiding the floorboards he knew would creak. His heart was pounding so hard he swore it would wake the whole damn house.

By the time he made it to the front door, his hands were shaking. He slowly twisted the doorknob, wincing at the faint click as it unlocked.

The night air hit him like a wave.

He did it. He was out.

Chris didn’t waste a second. He jogged to his car, started the engine as quietly as possible, and rolled out of the driveway. As soon as he was a few blocks away, he finally let out the breath he had been holding.

Almost there.

—

The Denny’s parking lot was nearly empty when he pulled in. The neon lights buzzed softly, casting a yellow glow over the pavement.

Inside, at a booth near the window, sat Matt and Nick.

Chris parked and took a second to compose himself. He checked his phone.

11:58 PM.

Perfect timing.

He stepped out of the car and made his way inside.

As soon as Matt and Nick saw him, they both sat up straighter.

Chris slid into the booth across from them.

Nobody said anything at first.

Nick was the first to break the silence. “You actually came.”