Chapter 6 - THE TRAP CLOSES
"Through the kitchen! The back door!" I whispered frantically, grabbing Ethan’s jacket sleeve.
We scrambled down the hallway, keeping our footsteps dead silent against the thick oriental rugs. As we slipped into the kitchen, we heard the distinct sound of the heavy front door unlocking.
"Ethan?" Vivian’s voice echoed down the front foyer, sharp and inquiring. "Are you in here?"
We froze behind the large kitchen island. The back door leading to the garden was only ten feet away, but opening it would mean making a noise.
"Ethan?" Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor as she walked down the hall toward the kitchen.
Ethan looked at me, panic burning in his eyes. He quickly grabbed a box of folding chairs resting near the pantry entrance, stepped out into the open hallway, and put on a calm expression.
"Hey, Mom!" Ethan called out, his voice miraculously steady. "I just brought the chairs in from the garage like you asked."
Vivian stopped at the end of the hall, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her son. She was wearing a beige trench coat, her hair freshly styled, holding her designer handbag. Her gaze shifted from Ethan down to the floor, then toward the basement hallway where the pantry annex was located.
"You're inside early," Vivian noted smoothly, her eyes darting over his shoulder. "Where is your car? I didn't see it in the driveway."
"I parked down the street in the alley," Ethan lied effortlessly. "The delivery truck for your neighbor was blocking the driveway when I pulled up."
Vivian took a slow step toward him. "And where is Claire?"
I held my breath behind the kitchen island, pressing my back against the cabinetry, my heart hammering against my chest.
"Claire is at home with Noah," Ethan said. "Look, Mom, I dropped the chairs off. I have to get back to work."
Vivian didn't move. She stared at Ethan for three long, agonizing seconds. Then, her eyes drifted down to the brass hook beside the pantry annex door.
She noticed something. A tiny speck of dust or perhaps the subtle shift in the lock frame.
Her expression darkened instantly.
"You were in my hallway, Ethan," she said, her voice dropping into that chilling, dangerous whisper.
"I just dropped the chairs off, Mom—"
"Don't lie to me!" she suddenly screamed, her voice echoing through the grand house like a crack of thunder. "Where is she?! Where is your hysterical wife?!"
Before Ethan could answer, Vivian marched past him toward the kitchen entrance.
I knew I couldn't hide any longer. I stepped out from behind the island, holding my leather tote bag firmly at my side.
"I'm right here, Vivian," I said, my voice cold and unwavering.
Vivian stopped, her blue eyes scanning me from head to toe, landing on my gloved hands before I quickly pulled them into my coat pockets.
"You snuck into my home," Vivian hissed, her face contorting with terrifying rage. "You ungrateful, intrusive little brat! What did you take?!"
"We didn't take anything, Vivian," I replied, standing my ground beside my husband. "We just found out who you really are."
Vivian stepped closer, her hand reaching into her handbag. "You have no idea what you're doing, Claire. You are trying to destroy this family. Give me that bag."
"Touch her, and I swear to God, Mom, I will end this right now," Ethan growled, stepping directly between Vivian and me, his body shaking with protective fury.
Vivian stared at her youngest son, realizing for the very first time in her life that she had lost her grip on him. The psychological leash had snapped.
"Get out of my house," Vivian whispered, her voice trembling with murderous rage. "Both of you. Get out before I call the police and have you arrested for breaking and entering!"
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"Call them, Vivian," I said, taking Ethan’s arm as we backed toward the rear patio exit. "Please... call the police. Because we're on our way to the State Bureau of Criminal Investigation right now."
We opened the back door, stepped out into the misty cold, and slammed it behind us, leaving Vivian standing alone in her pristine kitchen, her face twisted in a mask of pure, unadulterated terror.
