Chapter 3 - THE WEB OF LIESDaniel slowly raised his head from the glowing screen of his phone. The audio of Claire screaming curses at their infant son was still looping softly in the background, a haunting reminder of the monster living under his roof.
“Explain this,” Daniel said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. There was no anger left in it—only a lethal, razor-sharp focus.
Claire didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned against the doorframe, a bitter, twisted smile playing on her lips. She crossed her arms, looking at her husband not with guilt, but with utter disdain.
“You brought this on yourself, Daniel,” Claire said smoothly, stepping further into the damp utility room. “You spend fourteen hours a day at that damn firm. You look at quarterly reports more than you look at your wife. When we had Noah, I thought it would bring us back together. But you didn't see me anymore. You only saw a nursery. You only saw an heir.”
“So you tortured our son?” Daniel roared, taking a threatening step forward, clutching Noah tighter to his chest. The baby whimpered at the sudden volume.
“I didn't torture him!” Claire snapped back, her eyes flashing with defensive fury. “I disciplined him! He was crying on purpose to manipulate me. Every time he wailed, you rushed home early. Every time he fussed, you showered him with attention while I sat downstairs like a piece of furniture! That child stole my life, Daniel. And Hannah... that pathetic little leech was enabling him, making me look like a monster in my own home.”
Hannah stepped back, shielding herself behind the heavy oak folding table. “I only wanted to protect him, Mr. Mercer. Day after day, I’d find bruises on his arms, changes in his mood. She threatened to fire me and ruin my mother’s medical insurance if I ever said a word.”
Daniel turned his fierce gaze back to his wife. “Her mother’s insurance? You threatened her?”
“I protect what is mine,” Claire said coldly, her chin tilted upward in defiance. “And don't look at me like I’m a lunatic, Daniel. You think you’re so clean? You think I don't know about your little meetings with your corporate partner, Victoria, late at night downtown? You abandoned me first!”
Daniel stopped dead in his tracks. A heavy silence filled the basement, broken only by the hum of the old water heater.
“What did you say?” Daniel asked slowly.
“Oh, don't play stupid with me,” Claire laughed, a harsh, humorless sound. “I’ve hired private investigators, Daniel. I know about the accounts. I know about the offshore assets you’ve been quietly shifting away from our joint holdings for the past six months. You weren't just working late. You were planning to divorce me and leave me with nothing, weren't you?”
Daniel stared at his wife, a cold realization washing over him. Claire hadn't just lost her mind out of postpartum depression or jealousy toward the baby. She was cornered, paranoid, and calculating. She had been tracking his movements just as closely as he had been blind to hers.
“The offshore accounts were being set up to protect the family estate from your mounting gambling debts, Claire,” Daniel said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The ones you hid from me last year. The ones that nearly bankrupted my mother’s foundation.”
Claire’s eyes widened slightly, her confident facade cracking for a split second. But she recovered quickly, her expression hardening into pure venom.
“It doesn't matter anymore,” Claire said, reaching slowly into her designer handbag resting on a nearby crate. “Because you’re not going to leave this house with that memory card. And neither is she.”
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Before Daniel could react, Claire pulled a heavy, solid-brass antique paperweight from her bag—a brutal weapon she must have grabbed from her study upstairs.
“Stay back!” Claire screamed, lunging forward with the heavy metal object raised high.
