Daniel’s eyes locked onto mine. A sickening, cruel smile spread across his lips. “There you are. Look at you. Look at what you’ve done to our son, Rachel. If you had just signed the divorce papers and let me have the trust fund, we wouldn’t be here.”
“You… you monster,” I choked out, my voice raspy, my throat burning as if filled with acid. It was the first time I had spoken, and it took every ounce of my remaining strength.
“Call me what you want,” Daniel said smoothly, reaching his arm through the cracked door, his fingers straining to reach the inner handle to push the obstruction away. “But in an hour, the police will find a tragic murder-suicide. A depressed mother, unable to cope with an impending divorce, poisons her own son and takes her own life. And me? The grieving husband, comforted by his loyal assistant, miles away on a business trip.”
“The police… already know,” I wheezed, lifting the phone just high enough for him to see the glowing screen.
Daniel’s smile vanished. His face contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.
“You bitch!” he screamed.
He threw his entire weight against the door. The wicker hamper crushed into splinters. The force slammed the door into my shoulder, sending a bolt of agonizing pain down my spine. I was thrown backward onto the cold tile, losing my grip on Noah.
The phone flew from my hand, skittering across the floor and sliding directly under the clawfoot bathtub.
“Ma’am! Ma’am! We hear him! Units are turning onto your street now!” the operator’s voice echoed faintly from beneath the tub, but it sounded like it was underwater. My vision was tunneling. Black spots flared at the edges of my sight. The poison was shutting my body down. My muscles felt like lead; I couldn’t lift my arms.
Daniel stepped into the bathroom.
He looked immaculate compared to the horror on the floor. His crisp blue button-down shirt was barely wrinkled. He looked down at me and Noah with an expression of profound disgust, as if we were a pair of spilled drinks on an expensive rug.
Behind him, Vanessa hovered in the doorway, her hands pressed over her mouth, her eyes darting frantically around the room. “Daniel, we have to go! If she called them, they’re coming! Let’s just take the money and run!”
“Not until I get that phone,” Daniel growled. “If there’s a recording, the insurance won’t pay out. The whole point of this was the payout, Vanessa! I’m not leaving empty-handed.”
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