1. Ironclad #2
I tapped the security application on the cold glass. The loading circle spun in the center of the display, stalling on the network connection. The keypad chimed a second time, the noise echoing off the walls.
“Come on, connect,” I muttered to the phone.
The digital lock icon finally turned green. The wall panel went silent, disarming the system. I dropped the phone into my pocket and grabbed the edge of the heavy oak door with both hands.
Pulling it shut, I guided the latch into the strike plate with deliberate care to muffle the sound. The metal clicked into place. The abrasive wind vanished, replaced by the peaceful quiet of the entryway.
The familiar scent of my own home enveloped me, easing the lingering tension of the trip.
Traces of lemon wood polish mixed with the faint, spicy aroma of Warren’s cologne.
A low, steady hum drifted from the central heating vents in the ceiling.
Warm air cascaded over my skin. My shoulders began to drop.
I set my leather travel bag near the floor mat. Shifting my weight, I pressed a hand to my lower back to soothe the ache.
I pulled my arms free of my sleeves. I should have texted him from the car. I probably scared half a year off his life sneaking in like a burglar.
I smiled, imagining the look of shock on his face when I walked into his home office. My failed wellness weekend did not matter anymore. I was exactly where I needed to be. I draped my coat over the entryway hook, ready to head down the hall and surprise my husband.
I left my boots on the mat and walked barefoot down the carpeted runner. The steady rush of warm air faded as another sound drifted from the far end of the house. Music.
“Hold me close, and never let me go. You’re the only love my heart will ever know…”
A classic, swooning ballad crooned through the dining room speakers. I smiled, resting my hand against the curve of my stomach. Naomi loved those old vinyl records. Agnes used to play them for us on rainy Sundays at the orphanage, and the crackling static had always been Naomi’s favorite comfort.
They hadn’t heard the car pull into the driveway. I imagined the two of them sitting at the dining table, reviewing the fabric swatches for the firm, keeping my company running while I rested.
I rounded the corner of the hallway and approached the open archway of the dining room. I stopped just out of sight, ready to step into the light and reveal myself.
“Baby, I’m so glad she’s away,” Warren murmured. “We finally have the place to ourselves.”
“Some well-deserved rest,” Naomi replied.
Her voice lacked the usual breathless enthusiasm she used around me. It sounded sultry. Mellow. The legs of a chair scraped against the hardwood.
Then, the unmistakable, wet sound of a kiss echoed into the hallway.
I froze. The smile died on my face. My hand fell away from my stomach and gripped the smooth wood of the doorframe. The romantic ballad swelled in the background, masking the sound of my sudden, shallow breaths.
“Mmm… Just like that,” Naomi whispered. “Don’t stop.”
The ground dropped out from under me. Vertigo washed over me. I stared at the empty wall across the hallway, my vision blurring at the edges.
My husband was kissing my best friend. The man who promised to protect me. The woman who stood between me and the bullies at St. Jude’s.
I wanted to step through the archway. I wanted to scream at them, to flip the table, to demand an explanation for the betrayal.
“Don’t worry, love,” Warren said. “We’re so close now to the target.”
The word froze me in place. Target.
“A few more months, and the baby’s here,” Warren continued, his voice dropping into a casual, conversational rhythm.
“Then, we swap her evening vitamins with a massive dose of her sleep medication. It’ll look exactly like she just couldn’t handle the postpartum exhaustion and took the easy way out. We’ll be free of her. Permanently.”
The air in the house suddenly felt entirely too thin to breathe. I couldn’t move. They weren’t just cheating on me. They were pricing out my coffin.
“Are you sure the firm’s transition paperwork is ironclad?” Naomi asked.
“Positive,” Warren said. “She doesn’t doubt us, not even slightly. We’ll have all the money, and the baby on top of that. Just like you dreamed, baby.”
Just like you dreamed. Naomi had spent years crying on my shoulder about her sterile diagnosis. She had wept over her empty womb, and I had held her, mourning her loss as if it were my own. Now, she was sitting at my table, calmly discussing how to take my baby.
“The life we always deserved,” Naomi said. Her voice carried a vicious, triumphant sneer. “Better than Hollywood. I’m sorry you had to go through this ridiculous marriage to get it, but I’ll make it worth your while.”
Listening to the casual cruelty in my best friend’s voice, I sank against the wall. I clamped a trembling hand over my mouth to trap a sob. My muscles tensed, every instinct urging me to interrupt them.
“I promise to be your protector, your partner, and your safest place, until my dying breath.”
Warren had stood at the altar and spoken those vows to me in front of God.
Now, he was sitting twenty feet away, pricing out my coffin with the woman who used to braid my hair.
I swayed on my feet. But I rested my palm over my stomach, and the fierce need to protect my child cut through the despair.
I was seven months pregnant. If I walked into that room right now without a shred of proof, they would simply accelerate their timeline and murder me today. Stepping into that dining room meant I wouldn’t leave it alive.
I released my grip on the doorframe.
“Hold me close, and never let me go. You’re the only love my heart will ever know…”
The crooning vocals of the vintage ballad drowned out the faint creak of the floorboards as I shifted my weight.
I backed away, placing each bare foot with agonizing precision.
I kept my eyes fixed on the empty archway, waiting for Warren or Naomi to step into the hall.
They never appeared. They were too busy celebrating their payday.
I reached the foyer and pulled my heavy wool coat off the wall hook. I grabbed my leather travel bag and boots off the mat, tucking the boots under my arm to avoid the noise of the rubber soles against the hardwood.
I reached for the front door. I wrapped my trembling fingers around the solid brass of the interior deadbolt. I turned the knob an inch at a time to keep it from clicking. The metal latch cleared the strike plate in absolute silence.
I eased the heavy oak door inward, creating a narrow gap. The biting autumn wind lashed at my face, stinging my cheeks. I slipped backward through the opening. I pulled the door shut, easing it into the frame.
I pulled my house key from my pocket. My hands shook.
The metal scraped against the brass plate twice before I managed to slide it into the lock.
I turned the key, locking the door from the outside.
I took my phone out and tapped the security application, re-arming the house system to ‘Stay’ so they would never know the front door had been opened.
I backed away from the porch and walked to the edge of the concrete driveway. I dropped my boots onto the pavement and shoved my bare, freezing feet inside them. The abrasive wind whipped against my skin, but the cold barely even registered. I jammed my hands deep into my coat pockets.
I stood alone on the icy pavement, leaning my weight against the stone pillar of the driveway as I pulled my phone free to order a car. I pressed my thumb firmly against the glass screen, focused entirely on protecting my baby.