Chapter 1: Monsters Smile When Daddy Watches
“Daddy, she's a monster!””
My four-year-old daughter stood on her dining chair, one tiny finger pointing at my wife.
The fork slipped from my hand and struck the porcelain plate.
Nobody moved.
Across the table, Claire Carter, my wife of three weeks, sat with a polite smile frozen on her face. My parents exchanged uncomfortable glances. My younger sister, Emily, slowly lowered her glass of wine.
I tried to laugh.
It was the kind of laugh fathers use when their children embarrass them in front of guests.
“Ari, sweetheart, that's not a nice thing to say.””
But my daughter didn't sit down.
She stared at Claire with terrified eyes.
“She's a monster, Daddy.””
Claire placed her napkin beside her plate.
“Oh, Daniel, she's probably just tired. We've had a long day.””
Her voice was gentle. Almost musical.
That was what made the next sentence so difficult to forget.
“Monsters smile when Daddy is watching.””
My smile disappeared.
My name is Daniel Carter. I was thirty-five, living in a comfortable house outside Atlanta, Georgia, and convinced I'd finally found happiness again after four terrible years.
My first wife, Sarah, had died during childbirth.
I'd never forgotten the sound of the hospital monitor that night. I'd never forgotten holding our newborn daughter while a doctor explained that her mother wasn't coming home.
For four years, Ari and I had been a family of two.
Then Claire appeared.
She was thirty-two, worked as a children's behavioral therapist, and seemed to understand everything about raising a little girl who had lost her mother.
She remembered Ari's favorite cartoons. She braided her hair before preschool. She knew how to make pancakes shaped like butterflies.
When I proposed, Claire cried.
“I promise I'll never make Ari feel like she has to choose between us,” she'd whispered.
I'd believed her.
Now, at our family dinner, my daughter was trembling.
Claire pushed her chair back.
“Come on, sweetheart. Let's go wash those little hands.””
She extended her arms.
Ari screamed.
“NO!””
I immediately stood.
Claire froze.
“Daniel, what's wrong with her?””
I lifted Ari from the chair and held her against my chest.
“It's okay, baby. Daddy's here.””
My mother, Margaret, leaned forward.
“What's happening, sweetheart?””
Ari buried her face in my shoulder.
“Don't let Claire take me.””
Claire sighed.
“She's been having these episodes lately. I think she's struggling with the changes.””
Emily frowned.
“What episodes?””
“Nightmares,” Claire replied.
“Tantrums. Sometimes she wakes up crying and refuses to listen.””
I looked at my wife.
“Why haven't you told me?””
“Because I didn't want you worrying about something normal.””
Ari suddenly pulled my shirt.
“Daddy?””
“Yes, princess?””
“Can I tell you a secret?””
I kissed her forehead.
“Anything.””
She whispered so quietly that I almost couldn't hear her.
“Claire says I'm not allowed to call you when she's mad.””
The room went cold.
I looked at Claire.
“What does that mean?””
She shook her head immediately.
“Daniel, that's completely out of context.””
Ari began crying harder.
“She puts me in Mommy's closet.””
My heart seemed to stop.
“What closet?””
“The little room where Mommy's dresses are.””
I stared at my daughter.
Sarah's old walk-in closet had been locked for months. I'd kept her clothes and belongings there because I couldn't bring myself to sort through them.
Claire knew that.
I'd specifically asked her not to move anything.
“Why does Claire put you there?”” I asked.
Ari wiped her nose against my shirt.
“When she's angry, she says I have to think about being a bad girl.””
Claire stood up.
“This is ridiculous. Daniel, you know how imaginative four-year-olds can be.””
Emily pushed her chair back.
“Then why is Ari shaking?””
Claire turned sharply.
“Excuse me?””
“I said she's shaking.””
My father, Robert, finally spoke.
“Claire, perhaps you should sit down and let Daniel talk to his daughter.””
Claire's expression changed.
For one brief second, the sweetness disappeared.
“Of course,” she said.
Then she smiled again.
Ari saw it.
And she buried her face so deeply against my chest that her little fingers dug into my shoulder.
I carried her upstairs.
As I reached the landing, she whispered something that made me stop.
“Daddy, don't let her sleep in your room tonight.””
I turned toward her.
“Why, sweetheart?””
She looked toward the staircase.
“Because that's when she becomes different.””
Before I could ask another question, I heard Claire's footsteps approaching.
“Daniel?””
Her voice floated up the stairs.
May you like
“We really need to talk.””
And for the first time since marrying her, I wondered whether my wife had been pretending to be someone else all along.
