You will beg for mercy

The early morning sun had barely crested the horizon when Xavier's black SUV pulled into the driveway of their sprawling mansion. He stepped out, his form casting a long shadow on the gravel as he moved with purpose toward the imposing front door. This dawn-lit return had become an unwelcome ritual, ever since Cathleen crumbled under the weight of their loss, clutching a doll to her chest instead of their baby Bella.

He entered the quiet living room, where the scent of freshly brewed coffee hung in the air like a veiled accusation. Cathleen was there, as expected, perched on the edge of their plush cream sofa, which now seemed more like a throne of judgment. She took measured sips from her porcelain cup, eyes fixed on some distant point only she could see.

"Cat, it's not what you think," he began, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue, "I had a late meeting I needed to attend to." His voice betrayed him, rough with unspoken truths.

Cathleen's laugh was a sharp crack in the silence; her