Chapter 2 - The Sound of Betrayal
The kitchen was dead silent except for the low, rhythmic hum of the refrigerator and the faint, muffled sound of traffic passing on the street outside. I forced myself to breathe through my nose, taking shallow, quiet breaths so as not to alert the man standing over us.
My limbs felt like lead. Every attempt to twitch a finger or open my eyes wide required a monumental effort of will. But my mind—sharpened by sudden, icy terror—remained painfully awake.
“Ethan?” I tried to whisper, but the sound was nothing more than a dry puff of air against my lips.
Across the room, near the counter, Andrew's shoes scuffed against the tile.
I heard the distinct click of a burner being turned off, followed by the rustling of plastic trash bags. Then came the sound of footsteps moving toward the hallway, away from the kitchen and toward the foyer where the landline and his briefcase were kept.
I waited until the footsteps faded, then forced my eyelids apart by a millimeter.
Ethan was lying on his side near the base of the pantry cabinet, his breathing shallow and even. He was unconscious, caught in whatever chemical trap Andrew had laid inside the chicken dish.
Panic threatened to tear me apart from the inside out, but instinct took over. I couldn't move my legs yet, but I could slide my right arm across the floor. My fingers brushed against something hard and cold near the baseboard—a small, silver keychain attached to my house keys, which I had dropped when I fell.
With agonizing slowness, I dragged the keys toward me, my palm sweating against the metal.
From the hallway, Andrew’s voice cut through the stillness, low and steady.
“Yeah, it’s me,” he said into the phone. “The sedative took effect within twenty minutes. Both of them are completely out.”
There was a brief pause as whoever was on the other end spoke.
“I know what I’m doing,” Andrew continued, his tone devoid of any hesitation or remorse. “The insurance paperwork was finalized last month. Once the fire department finishes their investigation into a faulty kitchen burner, the house will be condemned, and the payout will cover everything I owe to the firm in Chicago. No one will ever look twice at a routine residential accident.”
My heart stopped beating for a terrified second.
A fire. He was going to burn the house down with us inside it.
“Everything went exactly as planned,” he said, his words sealing our fate. “They won't be getting in our way much longer.”
He clicked the phone shut.
I let my eyelids flutter closed just as I heard his footsteps turn and start walking back toward the kitchen.
My mind raced, searching frantically for a way out. I was trapped on the kitchen floor, my son was incapacitated, and my husband—the man I had loved for fifteen years—was planning our murder.
Then my hand brushed against something inside the side pocket of my cardigan, which had crumpled beneath my torso when I fell.
It was my phone.
I had slipped it into my pocket just before leaving the library, and because it was set to silent for the afternoon staff meeting, it hadn't rung once all evening.
Without making a sound, I slid my hand deep into the pocket, my thumb frantically searching the screen. I couldn't look at it; I had to do this entirely by touch. I pressed the power button, felt the faint vibration of the screen lighting up, and then swept my thumb across the glass, trying to hit the emergency SOS shortcut I had programmed months ago after hearing about a break-in down the street.
Vibrating pulse. Once. Twice.
It had worked. The emergency dispatch service had received my location and a silent audio stream.
Footsteps stopped right beside my head. A shadow fell over my face, blocking out the kitchen lights.
May you like
“Such a shame, Caroline,” Andrew whispered softly, his hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from my forehead with a tenderness that made my stomach heave. “You really were a wonderful wife. But some debts are simply too large to ignore.”
I held my breath, playing the part of the unconscious victim, while my fingers clutched my hidden phone so tightly my knuckles turned white.
