Chapter 2 - The Facade Crumbles"Ethan, listen to me—that’s slander!" Celeste shrieked, her voice losing its melodic composure, cracking into a harsh, desperate squawk as she bolted down the remaining steps. She lunged forward to grab the photograph, but Ethan spun away, holding it high out of her reach like a shield.
"Don't you dare touch her," Ethan snarled, his eyes burning with a fury that could melt steel. He turned to Richard, who was now attempting to casually slip his shoes on near the double mahogany front doors. "And you. Don't think you're walking out of here, Richard. The gates are locked, security is looping our private feed to my phone, and the local authorities are already ten minutes out."
Richard froze, one heel half-stuck in his designer loafer. "Man, you’ve got this all wrong. I’m just an interior designer. Celeste hired me to look at the master suite layout. We were just... discussing upholstery!"
"Upholstery?" Ethan took a deliberate step forward, his voice dripping with venom. "Is that what you call tearing down Clara’s custom drapery and replacing her furniture while her body was barely cold in the ground? Is that why you were half-naked in my hallway with my wife's stolen passport in your hand?"
Celeste realized the game was up. The mask of the sweet, grieving-adjacent stepmother melted away, revealing the cold, calculating predator underneath. Her face twisted into a sneer, and a dark, humorless chuckle escaped her lips. She straightened her posture, suddenly looking much taller, much more dangerous than she had a moment ago.
"You really think you're clever, don't you, Ethan?" Celeste spat, crossing her arms. "You sit in your ivory tower, making millions off tech startups while your wife—your first wife—was suffocating under the weight of your complete and utter blindness. Clara figured it out too late. And you? You're figuring it out right now, and it's still too late."
"What are you talking about?" Ethan demanded, his heart hammering against his ribs.
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"You think Clara wrote that note because she was clairvoyant?" Celeste smiled, a sickeningly sweet expression that chilled Ethan to the bone. "She wrote it because I let her write it. I wanted her to know exactly who was taking her life, her husband, and her daughter away from her. And now? You’re going to sign over the entire estate, every share of your company, and custody of Sophie, or your precious daughter goes on a permanent vacation where you will never find her."
Before Ethan could react, Richard lunged from the doorway, pulling a heavy, solid-brass decorative statue off the entryway console and bringing it down straight toward Ethan’s head.
