Chapter 5 - The Trap Springs Back
Downstairs, the heavy oak front door of the mansion creaked open with a long, agonizing groan.
Click. Click. Click.
The sound of high heels echoed sharply across the marble foyer.
Daniel froze at the top of the stairs, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. Marissa was in holding downtown—or so he had been told. How was she here?
“Daniel?” a voice called out from the dark foyer. It wasn't Marissa’s voice.
It was Evelyn.
Daniel let out a ragged breath, grabbing the wooden banister as he hurried down the dark stairs. “Evelyn? Thank God. What are you doing here? The police said you went back to the station—the power just cut out, someone broke in—”
He reached the bottom of the landing, stepping into the dim moonlight filtering through the tall arched windows.
Evelyn stood near the base of the stairs. But she wasn't wearing her practical trench coat anymore. Her black umbrella was gone. In her hand, she held something metallic, catching the silver moonlight with a dull, lethal gleam.
“You left the front door unlocked, Daniel,” Evelyn said. Her voice was no longer soft, professional, or timid. It was flat, chillingly calm, and carried an eerie, familiar cadence.
Daniel stopped dead in his tracks, a cold sweat breaking out across his neck. “Evelyn... what is that in your hand?”
“Insurance,” Evelyn whispered. She stepped closer, the shadows peeling away from her face to reveal a terrifying, calculated grin that didn't reach her cold eyes.
“You... you worked with Marissa?” Daniel choked out, his mind fracturing under the weight of the realization.
Evelyn laughed—a low, melodic sound that sent ice straight down Daniel’s spine.
“Marissa is an amateur, Daniel. She wanted money, jewelry, and a life of social standing. She wanted to play the grieving stepmother in high society. But me?” Evelyn tilted her head, stepping directly into the moonlight. “I wanted the entire estate. Every square foot of commercial real estate. Every bank account. And I needed someone legally vulnerable enough to take the fall for Clara’s murder, Marissa’s embezzlement, and a few other unfortunate ‘accidents’ along the way.”
Before Daniel could scream or turn to run, a heavy figure lunged out of the darkness behind him, wrapping a thick wire cord tightly across his windpipe.
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Daniel clawed frantically at the wire, his vision blurring into blackness as he collapsed to the marble floor.
Standing over him, holding the other end of the garrote with a terrifying smile, was none other than Marissa—her handcuffs gone, her clothes spotless, looking like she had never spent a minute in a police precinct at all.
