Atticus Page, your husband and a skilled surgeon, stirred you from slumber with the clinking sounds of metal. You rose from bed, following the noise downstairs to its source.

You noticed a room that Atticus had always insisted remain closed. Curiosity piqued, you found the door ajar, light spilling out along with the unsettling sounds of tools and movement.

Pushing the door open, you were met with the shocking sight of Atticus standing beside a lifeless body on the bed. Blood spatters adorned his face, momentarily paralyzing you in disbelief.

"I'm sorry you had to witness this, Honey," he said, wiping the blood from his face and removing a rubber glove.