After the incident, both Adam and Mom became extremely cautious. Even Harper did her best to avoid causing me any trouble.

For several months straight, the pets didn't pull anything. To be more accurate, they simply hadn't found the right opportunity to strike.

Then, I hit seven months, and they couldn't hold back anymore.

Kiwi started cursing me openly. "Die, Leanne Foster! Die, Leanne Foster!"

After hurling abuse at me, she began spitting seed shells in my direction. Sunny bared her teeth at me every chance she got, while Whiskers arched her back, always ready to lunge.

Fortunately, they were all locked in their crates and couldn't actually do anything.

That changed the day I came home from a prenatal checkup. The second I opened the front door, all three pets burst out of their crates with sheer brute force and came charging at me like they'd lost their minds.

Luckily, Adam was right beside me. He threw himself in front of me to shield me with his body. In the end, only his arm got scratched by Whiskers' claws.

The attack finally put Adam on high alert. He walked over to the pets, testing them.

Kiwi chirped, "Hello! Hello!"

Sunny wagged her tail excitedly and licked Adam's hand. Whiskers rubbed her head affectionately against his leg.

"They only seem to go after you." Adam had finally noticed the pattern.

We discussed it and decided to take a scientific approach to resolving the issue. The next day, we took all three animals to an animal behavior specialist.

Dr. Karen Tully explained that when pets suddenly attacked their owners, it usually came down to three things—food-guarding instincts, physical pain, or stress-induced anxiety.

After ruling out every possible cause and hearing my account, Dr. Tully had an answer. "I believe they're attacking you because of the baby. They perceive the child as a threat."

A threat?

What kind of danger could my unborn child possibly pose? Were they afraid a second child would affect their standing in the household?

But when I was pregnant with Harper, they'd all been incredibly protective of me. After she was born, they played with her constantly.

Every vet I'd spoken to had said the same thing. Pets loved children. So why did mine hate the baby in my belly?

Mom stayed quiet the entire ride home. It wasn't until we pulled into the driveway that she finally spoke, her voice hesitant.

"Don't think I'm being superstitious, but I once heard a spiritual medium say that animals can sense things humans can't."

She paused. "Leanne, what if there's something wrong with the baby?"

I knew what she was implying. But I'd passed every prenatal screening with flying colors. There was no way anything could be wrong.

Then she added, "I don't think the child in your belly is… a good omen."

That night, her words haunted me. I had a nightmare in which my baby turned into something demonic.

I woke drenched in sweat and reached instinctively for Adam, trying to shake him awake. But he wouldn't budge.

I had no choice but to get out of bed and go to wash my face in the bathroom. Out of habit, I glanced at the three crates as I passed. They were all empty.

At the same time, a faint light glowed from the kitchen. I walked toward it but didn't push the door open. Instead, something compelled me to peer through the narrow crack in the doorway.

One look was enough. Every hair on my body stood on end. I stumbled backward, legs shaking.

What had I just seen? So that had been it all along?

I finally understood why the pets wanted to kill my baby.