Chapter 7 - The Trap is Set
The rain returned that night, hammering relentlessly against the floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the study.
Ethan sat in the dark, staring at a framed photograph of Clara holding her baby bump in the sunlit garden three years ago. The pain in his heart was a physical, crushing weight, but beneath the grief, a cold, unyielding wall of vengeance had taken root.
Lena walked into the study softly, holding a warm cup of chamomile tea. She set it on the desk beside the photograph, looking at him with deep, wordless compassion.
“Arthur told me,” Lena whispered gently.
Ethan didn't look up. His voice was hollow, flat. “I let her live in my house for eighteen months after she murdered my wife. I let her eat at my table. I let her touch my children.”
“You didn't know, Ethan,” Lena said, coming around the desk and placing her warm hand over his shaking knuckles. “She was a master manipulator. She fooled everyone for twenty years. But her time is over now.”
Ethan turned his head, looking into Lena’s steady brown eyes. The warmth of her grip grounded him, pulling him back from the edge of complete despair.
“The district attorney says the current evidence for the murder charge is circumstantial,” Ethan said, his jaw tightening. “The blood-thinning prescription was filled under a fake clinic name. If we go to trial right now, her high-priced lawyers might get the murder charges dropped, leaving her with only five years for the child abuse.”
“She won't take a plea deal,” Lena remarked thoughtfully. “Margaret is too arrogant. She thinks she’s smarter than everyone in this city.”
Ethan’s eyes flashed with a sudden, sharp idea. “You’re right. She is arrogant. And that arrogance is exactly how we’re going to destroy her.”
Ethan picked up his phone and dialed the direct line for the lead detective assigned to the case, Detective Miller.
“Detective,” Ethan said into the receiver. “I need you to release a specific piece of fake news to the press tomorrow morning. Tell them that my forensic team discovered Clara’s missing diary, and that we are handing the original handwritten pages over to the grand jury at noon.”
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On the other end of the line, Detective Miller chuckled grimly. “You’re trying to flush her out.”
“She won't let that diary reach the courthouse,” Ethan replied with icy certainty. “She’ll try to destroy it herself before her trial begins. Set up the trap at her private storage facility in Alexandria.”
