Chapter 5 - THE MIDNIGHT ESCAPEBefore Melissa could recover her wits and scream, the front doorbell rang.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
It wasn't a casual chime. It was urgent, heavy, and persistent.
Melissa’s head snapped toward the foyer. "Who is that? Did you call the police?"
"No," I said coldly, keeping my grip on her wrist firm. "I didn't call the police. But I did invite some family over."
I released her arm, letting her stumble against the counter, and walked briskly down the hallway toward the front door. My gait was steady, my balance true.
I unlocked the heavy mahogany door and pulled it open.
Standing on the porch under the amber porch light was a young woman with tear-streaked cheeks and dark hair tied back in a messy ponytail. Behind her stood two federal agents from the U.S. Marshals Service and my lifelong corporate attorney, Arthur Vance.
"Dad?" Grace gasped, staring at me in utter disbelief. She looked from my face down to my shoes, seeing me standing tall on the porch for the first time in five years. "You're... you're walking?"
"Hello, sweetheart," I said, my voice cracking slightly with emotion as I pulled my daughter into a fierce, suffocating hug. "I'm so sorry I let her keep you away."
Grace buried her face in my shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. "She told me you didn't want to see me... she said you were slipping away, Dad..."
Arthur Vance stepped past us into the foyer, holding a thick leather briefcase. Behind him, the two federal agents walked in with quiet, lethal professionalism.
Melissa appeared from the kitchen, her hair slightly disheveled, her face a mask of furious desperation. She saw Arthur, she saw the federal agents, and she saw Grace holding onto me.
"Arthur! Thank God," Melissa barked, instantly trying to pivot back to her role of the aggrieved CEO's wife. "Ethan’s cognitive decline has reached a psychotic break. He’s hallucinating, he’s violent, and he’s holding me hostage in my own home! Call the psychiatric facility immediately—"
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Arthur Vance didn't even blink. He slowly opened his briefcase, pulled out a thick stack of legal documents stamped with federal seals, and adjusted his glasses.
"Shut up, Melissa," Arthur said calmly. "The game is over."
