Two days after the baby arrived, I find him gone. No warning, no goodbye.

When I wake up, the blinds have been opened, but the baby is not inside his crib. I must have been sleeping deeply since I didn’t hear a sound.

My sweaty hands grip the cold edge of the empty crib, my world spinning.

For two days, I did everything to care for the baby. I woke up several times a night to change and feed him. He filled my days with sounds instead of silence. I tickled his little toes and enjoyed the giggles I got back. I didn’t mean to form a bond with him, but it happened. Was that what Damien wanted? Did he want me to fall in love with the baby, then take him away to hurt me?

My vision goes red as I charge toward the door. “Where is he?” My words hit the air at the same time my fists slam against the wood. “Where’s the baby?”

“Everything is fine, Mrs. Steel.” Adrian’s voice is calm and gentle. Given that he never communicates with me from the other side, his response takes me by surprise. “Mr. Steel will be spending the day with the baby so you can get some rest.”

“Really?” I scoff, pressing my back against the door. “Suddenly he cares about how I feel? I don’t buy that for a second.” My teeth are gritted, my jaw tight. “If he cared about me at all, he’d let me out of this prison of a room.”

Adrian falls silent again. I try to get him talking again, but he doesn’t respond. Maybe he’s as confused about Damien’s plans as I am. I give up and return to bed. When my breakfast comes through the partition, I ignore it.

The baby is the only thing on my mind—his smile, the soothing sounds he makes. In only a few hours we had become some kind of team, giving each other comfort during our darkest time, both of us without a home. A flash of loneliness stabs me at the thought of never seeing his bright eyes and dimpled cheeks again.

After about an hour, I drag myself out of bed again and splash my face with cold water. The breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, and coffee is cold by the time I eat it. Underneath the plate is a note from Damien.

Like a robot, I read it. I can never stop myself from reading the damn notes, even when the words destroy me.

Love of my life,

Watching you with the baby the past two days has brought immense joy to my heart. You will make a wonderful mother one day. After those sleepless nights, I thought you might appreciate some rest, a little time to yourself. As your husband, it’s my turn to care for the baby.

I can’t wait for the day we’ll look after our own children.

For now, get some rest and think of me. I love you, even if you find that hard to believe right now.

D.

I tear up the note, breaking the sentences and words until they’re nothing but a meaningless mess.

I spend the rest of the morning and afternoon on my bed, holding the baby’s stuffed giraffe to my body. Sometimes I stand at the window, looking out, waiting for Damien to bring him back. Night falls and the shutters close, but Damien doesn’t show up.

I’m on the verge of panic when the door opens. Hanna walks in with the baby in her arms. At the sight of his small face, my eyes fill with tears.

Saying nothing to Hanna, I take him and walk to the bed.

“Your husband was great with him. They played all day. He already gave him a bath and fed him for the night.”

Hanna leaves without a response from me. What can I say to her, or anyone? Everything happening around me is so confusing and bizarre.

I struggle to think of Damien as both a good man who rescues babies and gives them baths, and a monster who murders and kidnaps people. How is it possible for the core of a person’s heart to be both warm and cold?

The next day, Hanna appears with my breakfast tray and informs me that Mr. Steel has asked her to take the baby to him. She holds out her arms, and though I hesitate at first, I end up giving her the baby after pressing a kiss on his little fist. What choice do I have? He’s not mine.

Later in the afternoon, after my lunch, I look out the window and spot Damien sitting on a bench under a tree, the baby in his arms. There’s a smile on his face as he runs a hand over the baby’s forehead.

Damien’s hair is disheveled. He’s wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, a white burp rag over one shoulder. He throws back his head and laughs. I imagine the deep, throaty sound reaching my ears.

In someone else’s eyes, he probably looks normal, like a loving father and devoted husband. But I know better. I know what lurks inside his dark soul. As genuine as he looks with a baby in his arms, the image he presents to the world is not the truth.

I turn away from the window and rush to the bathroom, where I wash my face again and do some deep breathing, my face buried inside one of the baby’s onesies. More than ever, I wish the baby were with me. I ache for his comfort.

In the evening, Damien brings the baby himself.

“He’s a happy one, isn’t he?” He hands me the baby, wrapped in a blue- and white-striped blanket.

I smile at the baby and take him to the window, my back to Damien.

“I knew you would like him. Did you decide on a name yet?”

“It’s not my place.” I give the baby one of my fingers to hold on to.

“In that case, let’s call him Leon. That was your father’s name, right?”

I turn around, ice spreading through my stomach. “How… how do you…?”

“You keep forgetting you were somewhat of a celebrity once. Everything I know about you came from your own lips or some quick research online.”

“No.” I shake my head. “We can’t call him that. You can’t—”

The beginning of a smile tips the corners of Damien’s lips. “You said we. I like that. Looks like you’re accepting our marriage after all.” He pauses. “I don’t see the problem. You used to love your father and you feel close to that baby. Leon is the perfect name.”

“I said no.” I struggle to keep my voice from rising.

“The decision is made. Leon is the baby’s name.”

With that, he leaves the room. A few minutes later, Hanna walks in with a stack of women’s magazines.

“To keep you busy when Mr. Steel has the baby tomorrow.” She places them on the nightstand.

In the middle of the night, when the baby wakes up hungry, I ask him an important question, in a whisper so Damien doesn’t hear.

“So, do you like the name Leon? Do you want to keep it?”

The baby raises his hand and touches my cheek, leaving it prickly with warmth. Much as I hate to admit it, it feels like a sign. Damien was right—Leon is a great name. I might be insane, but could it be that my father is watching over me through the presence of this baby?

As the thought settles into my mind like a soothing balsam, I feel less alone, less afraid.

“Nice to meet you, little Leon.” Tears clog my throat.

Leon stays in my life for another exhausting but comforting week, after which Damien walks into my room to tell me that a new home has been found for him.

At the shock and sadness on my face, he assures me that he has met with the prospective parents and thinks they’ll be a great fit.

I’m unable to pull away when he draws me to his body and holds me to him for a few seconds. The moment I’m aware of his heart pounding against my chest, I pull away.

I head over to Leon’s crib, my fingertips tracing his soft cheek.

Damien gives me time to say goodbye to Leon, then he takes him away.

“Hanna and the other staff will be here later to get his belongings.” At the door, he turns to face me. “Thank you for making him feel loved.” As the door closes behind him, I slide to the floor.

After another five days, which I spend coming to terms with the emptiness Leon has left behind, Damien invites me to have dinner with him in the dining room. At the end of it, he tells me it’s time for us to start sleeping in the same bed as husband and wife.