Chapter 2 - The Ghost of the Past"What did you just say?" Nathan whispered, his voice dangerously low, stripped of all warmth.
Before Maya could answer, Chloe lunged forward, her voice shrill and desperate. "Don't listen to her, Nathan! She’s hallucinating! Children make up the wildest stories when they’re traumatized by punishment. Maya, stop lying to your father!"
"Shut up," Nathan said. It wasn't a shout; it was a lethal command. He didn't look at Chloe, his eyes locked entirely on his daughter. "Maya. Tell Daddy what you meant."
Maya gripped his shirt tighter. "She was there, Dad. The night Mom went missing... I woke up because I was thirsty. I crept down the stairs. I saw the front door open. I saw Mom talking to a woman outside by the porch light. It was Chloe. They were arguing. Mom was crying, and Chloe looked... she looked just like she did a minute ago."
Chloe let out a sharp, hysterical laugh. "This is insane! You're letting a traumatized eight-year-old accuse your wife of murder? Nathan, look at me! Do you really believe this?"
Nathan stood up slowly. Standing at six-foot-two, he towered over Chloe. The puzzle pieces in his mind began to violently rearrange themselves, clicking into a horrific, blood-chilling picture.
Two years ago, Elena had left the house late at night to "clear her head" after a minor argument. Her car was found submerged in Blackwood Cove, fifty miles away. The brakes had completely failed. The police found no signs of foul play. Chloe—then a grieving acquaintance—had miraculously appeared at the funeral, offering a shoulder to cry on, seamlessly weaving herself into Nathan's broken life within six months.
“She was there when Mom died.”
"Get out," Nathan said.
"Excuse me?" Chloe blinked, dropping the innocent act for a fraction of a second, a flash of pure venom cutting through her eyes.
"I said, get out of my house. Now." Nathan pointed a shaking finger toward the front door. "If you don't walk out that door in the next ten seconds, I won't call the police. I will tear you apart with my bare hands."
Chloe stared at him, realizing the game was up. A cold, chilling smile spread across her lips—a smile Nathan had never seen before. It wasn’t his loving wife. It was a stranger.
"You think you're so smart, Nathan," Chloe sneer-whispered, grabbing her designer handbag off the entryway console. "You think kicking me out solves anything? You have no idea what you've walked into. You're standing on top of a sinking ship, and you don't even know where the water is coming from."
She slammed the front door behind her, leaving a chilling void in the house.
May you like
Nathan fell back to his knees, pulling Maya and Leo into his arms. But the relief was entirely absent. He looked at Maya’s bruised arm, and then toward the home office upstairs, where Elena’s old corporate laptop and filing cabinet still sat untouched in the closet.
If Chloe had been there the night Elena died... why? And what else had Chloe hidden?
