The cold blue light of the security monitors bathed my face in a sick, ghostly glow. On screen two, Patricia had already turned her back on Rosa, her posture stiff with calculated fury. She walked over to the antique mahogany side table, her manicured fingers tapping sharply against the wood before she whirled back around.

My blood ran cold.

Footsteps, slow and rhythmic.

“Daddy, hide!” Martina whispered frantically, her small face pale with sheer terror. “If she finds you here, she’ll hurt us more tomorrow!”

“She’s not hurting anyone anymore,” I whispered back. But pragmatism won over blind rage. I slipped beneath the bed, pulling the long valance skirt down to conceal myself, leaving just a narrow slit of vision across the hardwood floor.

The bedroom door handle jiggled.

Click.

The door creaked open. Patricia’s silhouette filled the doorway, backlit by the dim amber glow of the hallway sconces. She was wearing a silk robe, her long hair falling loosely around her shoulders. In her hand, she held a half-empty glass of red wine.

She stepped into the room, her eyes scanning the darkness with predatory suspicion.

“Martina? Daniela?” she called out, her voice dangerously sweet. “Are you two whispering? I thought I heard a voice.”

Neither girl answered. They lay rigid under the covers, their breathing shallow and synchronized.

Patricia walked slowly toward the bed. I watched her bare feet step onto the rug, stopping mere inches from where I crouched in the dark. She took a slow sip of her wine, her eyes narrowing as she looked down at the huddled forms of my daughters.

“You know,” Patricia murmured to the empty air, thinking she was completely alone, “your father is a remarkably dense man. So brilliant in his algorithms and software empires, yet so utterly blind to the real world. By tomorrow evening, his signature will be on every asset transfer document, and this entire estate—every penny, every building, every memory—will belong to me.”

A cold, triumphant chuckle slipped from her lips.

“And the two of you? Well, an exclusive boarding school in the freezing mountains of Vermont has plenty of room for ungrateful little orphans. He won't even look for you once I convince him you begged to go away.”

Under the bed, my fingers curled into a fist so tight my knuckles turned translucent. The sheer, unadulterated malice radiating from her was suffocating. She wasn't just a gold-digger; she was a sociopath playing a long, devastating game with my family.

Patricia set her wine glass down hard on the bedside table, the crystal clinking sharply against the wood.

“Go to sleep,” she snapped, her voice reverting back to its cruel, razor-sharp edge. “Tomorrow is a big day. Your new life begins whether you like it or not.”

She turned on her heel, her silk robe swishing around her ankles, and walked out of the room. The heavy door clicked shut.

Click.

The brass key turned from the outside once more.

I waited thirty agonizing seconds, listening to her footsteps fade down the hallway toward the master suite, before sliding out from beneath the bed.

Martina and Daniela were crying silently, their small shoulders shaking. I pulled them into my arms again, kissing their foreheads.

“Pack a small bag each,” I whispered firmly. “Just your favorite things. We are going on a real trip tonight. To a place where nobody can ever lock this door again.”