My Wife Secretly Bre@stfeeds our 15-year old son Every Midnight, I Never Knew…

It all started the day my wife, Rebecca, gave birth to our second Baby.
Our first son, Junior, was already 15 years old then. He was staying in a boarding school.

Everything was fine until one afternoon when my phone rang while I was at work. It was a call from Junior’s school. The teacher’s voice sounded serious.

“Sir, your son has been going missing at midnight,” she said.
“Missing?” I asked, confused.
“Yes. Some nights he is not on his bed in the hostel. Then by morning, he appears again like nothing happened.”

My heart started beating fast. I rushed home that evening and told Rebecca my wife everything. I expected her to panic like I did. But she didn’t.

She only shrugged and said, “Children do strange things. Maybe it’s nothing.”

Her calmness shocked me. A mother should be worried, but she wasn’t.

That same week, I noticed something else. Rebecca refused to breastfeed our newborn baby. The baby cried day and night. Our neighbors started complaining about the noise. Anytime I begged Rebecca to feed the baby, she would burst into tears and lock herself in the room.

“I can’t,” she kept saying. “Please don’t force me.”

Nothing made sense anymore.

THEN CAME THE NIGHT THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING.

As usual, Rebecca served me food before bedtime. That night, I had already eaten outside, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I lied and told her I have eaten the food. We went to bed early.

Immediately it was 12 Midnight Sharp, I felt her tap my shoulder gently. I was about to ask what was wrong when I heard her whisper,

“Very good, Junior. Come and drink br3@st. Your daddy is sleeping.”

My bl00d froze.

I screamed inside my mind, *Jesus!*

I pretended to be asleep. Rebecca quietly stood up and walked to the sitting room. My heart was pounding as I slowly followed her, barefoot, hiding behind the wall.

Junior was supposed to be in boarding school.

So how was he in my house?

There, in the dim light of the sitting room, I saw it. Rebecca sat on the couch, holding Junior close. She brought out her bre@st and fed him like a baby. My son… my 15-year-old son.

My legs became weak.

Then Rebecca spoke again, her voice cold and strange.

“Don’t tell anyone, Junior,” she said. “If you talk, your father will d!e.”

Junior nodded quietly.

She laughed softly and added, “Nobody will save Daniel, that stup!d husband of mine. After seven days, he won’t survive what is coming.”

I covered my mouth to stop myself from screaming.

Who was this woman I married?
What was she planning to do to me?
And why was my son involved?