Chapter 4 - The Specter at the Door
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I slept terribly. Every groan of the old house made me jump out of bed, expecting Declan to burst through the door with a crowbar. My shoulder had turned a deep shade of purple, and every breath felt like a needle pressing into my lungs.
By ten o'clock the following morning, my worst nightmare materialized.
A loud, aggressive knock echoed through the house, rattling the glass panes of the front door.
I crept toward the living room window and pulled back the curtain. My heart dropped into my stomach.
A sleek black Porsche was parked right on my mother's lawn, crushing her rosebushes. Standing on the porch was Declan. He wore a crisp, tailored grey suit, looking completely untouched by the violence of the previous night.
Standing beside him, holding his arm with a smug smile, was Chloe—his twenty-four-year-old marketing assistant.
Declan hadn't come to apologize. He hadn't come out of remorse. He had brought his mistress to my mother's humble home to deliver the ultimate humiliation.
"Maya! Get out here!" Declan shouted, slamming his fist against the wood. "Stop hiding behind your old lady!"
My mother walked out of the kitchen, wearing her plain apron, looking remarkably unbothered.
"Mom, don't open it," I pleaded, grabbing her wrist. "He's dangerous."
"In my house?" Mom looked at me, her gaze steady and fierce. "He is nothing, Maya."
She unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door wide open.
Declan stood tall on the porch, adjusting his silk tie. He looked past my mother, his eyes locking onto my bruised face with cruel satisfaction.
"Look at you," Declan sneered. "Living in this dump, looking like a street rat. You thought running here would protect you?"
Chloe giggled quietly, leaning her head against Declan's shoulder. "She really thought she was special, Declan."
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Declan stepped closer, his boots crossing the threshold. He looked my mother up and down with absolute contempt.
"Like mother, like daughter!" Declan spat. "Two broke, pathetic women who don't know their place."
