Chapter 4 - The Spider’s Web
Viral Headline: THE $10 MILLION TRAP: How My Husband Set Me Up to Take the Fall for His CrimesThe woods surrounding Sarah's cabin were pitch black as Julian and I crept through the trees. We had parked his truck half a mile down the road and walked in through the dense forest, guided only by the dim moonlight filtering through the pine canopy.
My heart was beating in my ears, but my hands were steady. The fear had transformed into a cold, calculating focus.
We reached the edge of the clearing. The cabin was dark now. Grant's Lincoln and Sarah's Volvo sat side-by-side in the driveway like accomplices in the night.
"I'll watch the perimeter," Julian whispered, handing me a small, black device. "This is a signal jammer. If they have a security system, this will temporarily disable the cellular backup so no alarms are sent to the police. You have ten minutes."
"I only need five," I whispered back.
I slipped out of the trees and ran silently across the damp grass to the side door of the cabin. My fingers found the spare key hidden inside the hollow plastic rock near the hose spigot—a secret Sarah and I had shared for years.
I inserted the key into the lock. It turned with a soft, satisfying click.
I stepped into the mudroom. The air smelled of old wood, lavender, and Grant’s expensive cologne. The betrayal hit me again, a physical wave of nausea, but I pushed it down.
I crept into the main living room. The embers of the fireplace glowed a faint, ghostly orange, casting long shadows across the room. On the dining table, the legal documents were gone, but Grant's leather briefcase sat on the armchair near the window.
I walked over to it, my hands steady. I popped the latches. They opened with a sharp snap that sounded like a gunshot in the silent cabin.
I froze, holding my breath, listening for any sound from the loft bedroom upstairs.
Nothing. Just the sound of the wind rustling the pines outside.
I reached inside the briefcase. I bypassed the standard business folders and dug deep into the zippered side pocket. My fingers brushed against a small, metal object.
It was a hardware encrypted flash drive.
Beside it lay a small, clear glass vial with a medical label. I picked it up and held it to the faint light of the fireplace.
Donepezil.
My breath caught. Donepezil was a medication used to treat dementia, but in high doses, or when mixed with certain other drugs, it could cause severe confusion, disorientation, and temporary memory loss in elderly patients. Richard wasn't just naturally declining.
They were drugging him.
The sheer cruelty of it made me gasp. They were poisoning my stepfather to make him appear incompetent so they could steal his money and blame his "fog" on my supposed neglect.
"What are you doing here, Emily?"
The cold, sharp voice sliced through the darkness.
May you like
I spun around, dropping the vial onto the carpet.
Standing at the base of the loft stairs, holding a heavy glass tumbler of whiskey, was Grant.
