Chapter 4 - THE HOMECOMINGAt 6:30 PM, Daniel unlocked the front door of our house, whistling a jaunty tune. He had probably just checked his subscriber analytics, expecting another massive payout from the evening crowd.
He walked into the living room, tossing his keys onto the counter.
"Claire?" he called out, hanging up his coat. "Honey, are you home?"
I sat quietly in the leather armchair by the fireplace, holding a cup of herbal tea. The house was dimly lit, just the way he liked it when he wanted to record a "raw, emotional moment" for his perverted audience.
Daniel walked into the room, stopping short when he saw me. His eyes darted nervously toward his office door.
"Claire. You're... you're back early. And your bags are packed?" He forced a strained, nervous laugh. "Is everything okay?"
I took a slow sip of my tea, setting the ceramic cup down on the glass table.
"Everything is wonderful, Daniel," I said, looking straight into his eyes. "In fact, your subscriber numbers must be through the roof today. Have you checked your dashboard?"
Daniel’s face drained of all color in a single microsecond. The mask of gentle, patient husband shattered instantly.
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"What... what did you say?" he stammered, taking a panicked step backward.
"I said, your audience must be thrilled," I stood up, smoothing down my blazer. "Though they might be a little disappointed to find out that instead of my shower feed, they're currently watching federal indictments scroll across their screens."
