Chapter 1

There were three of them: Lily, who was eight and loved to draw; Max, who was six and always asking questions; and little Sophie, who was only four and thought everything was an adventure. They were good kids, really. They listened most of the time, and when they didn't, it was only because they were so full of life.

Mummy poured cereal into bowls and set out the milk. She heard Lily's voice calling from upstairs, "Mummy, Max is wearing my socks again!"

"Am not!" Max shouted back.

Mummy chuckled. It was a normal morning, the kind she loved. But there was a shadow in her heart that she tried to ignore. Her family—her sisters, her cousins, even her own mother—they were jealous. They didn't have children who laughed and played and made messes. They didn't have a home full of warmth. And so they whispered. They said mean things about the kids, saying they were too loud, too messy, too much. Mummy tried not to let it bother her, but sometimes the words stung like little bees.

After breakfast, Mummy took the children to the park. The sun was warm, and the grass was green. Lily drew pictures with chalk on the sidewalk. Max chased a butterfly. Sophie collected shiny pebbles and put them in her pocket. Mummy sat on a bench and watched them, her heart full.

But then she saw them. Her sister, Aunt Clara, and her cousin, Uncle Ben, standing by the fence. They were whispering and pointing at the children. Mummy's stomach tightened. She knew that look. It was the look of jealousy, the kind that made people do mean things.

"Come on, kids," Mummy said, standing up. "Let's go home."

"But Mummy, we just got here!" Lily protested.

"We can come back later," Mummy said gently. "I have a feeling we need to go home now."

The children grumbled but followed. As they walked, Mummy looked back and saw Aunt Clara and Uncle Ben still watching. They were smiling, but it wasn't a nice smile. It was the kind of smile that meant trouble.

That night, after the children were in bed, Mummy sat in the living room and stared at the wall. She was trying, really trying, to keep everything together. But it was hard. The jealousy of her family felt like a heavy blanket, smothering her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"I can do this," she whispered. "I will protect my kids."

She checked on them one last time. Lily was asleep with a crayon still in her hand. Max was hugging his stuffed bear. Sophie had a pebble clutched in her little fist. Mummy kissed each one and tiptoed out.

But in the middle of the night, Mummy woke up with a start. Something was wrong. The house was too quiet. She got up and walked to the children's room. The door was open. She peeked inside. Lily and Max were in their beds, but Sophie's bed was empty.

"Sophie?" Mummy called softly. No answer.

She checked the bathroom. Empty. The kitchen. Empty. The whole house. Empty of Sophie. Mummy's heart began to race. She ran outside, her bare feet cold on the grass. The moon was full, casting silver light on the garden.

And then she saw it. A pile of clothes on the ground. Sophie's pajamas. The little onesie with the bunnies on it. But Sophie was not there.

"Sophie!" Mummy screamed, her voice cracking.

She picked up the clothes and held them to her chest. They were still warm. But no Sophie. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.

Mummy's mind raced. She thought of the stories her grandmother used to tell. Stories about a mummy. A pale woman with white bandages wrapped around her head. A creature that took children for revenge. Mummy had thought they were just tales to scare kids into behaving. But now, she wasn't so sure.

She remembered the jealousy in her family's eyes. The whispers. The pointing. Had they done something? Had they called the mummy? Or was the mummy real, and had she come for Sophie?

Mummy ran back inside and called the police. They came quickly, but they found nothing. No footprints. No clues. Just the empty pajamas. The officers looked at each other with sad eyes. They said they would do their best, but Mummy could tell they didn't believe they would find Sophie.

As the sun began to rise, Mummy sat on the floor of Sophie's room, holding the little pajamas. Lily and Max woke up and found her there. They didn't understand. They asked where Sophie was. Mummy couldn't find the words.

"She's... she's gone," Mummy whispered.

"Gone where?" Max asked.

Mummy looked at the window. The morning light was pale and cold. She thought of the mummy. The pale woman with bandages around her scalp. She had taken Sophie. For revenge. But revenge for what? Mummy didn't know. But she knew one thing: she would find Sophie. No matter what.

She stood up, her eyes filled with tears and determination. "I'm going to get her back," she said. "I promise."

But as she spoke, a shadow passed by the window. A figure, tall and thin, wrapped in white. And then it was gone. Mummy's blood ran cold. The mummy was watching. And this was only the beginning.