Chapter 3 - The Ghost Returns
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My footsteps made no sound against the plush Persian runners as I walked down the long corridor toward the main living room. My mind was a whirlwind of betrayal, guilt, and a dark, suffocating fury. How had I been so blind? How had I let a woman like this into my home?
As I approached the grand archway leading into the living room, Chloe’s shrill voice carried clearly through the open space.
"Yes, operator, I need police sent to my residence immediately," Chloe lied effortlessly into her phone, pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor. "My housekeeper has become completely unhinged. She is refusing to leave the property and she just aggressively grabbed my arm. My fiancé is out of the country, and I am terrified for my safety and the safety of his two young daughters."
Marisol stood rooted to her spot in front of the girls, her face pale but her posture unbroken. She knew she was stepping into a trap, but she was willing to risk arrest just to keep a physical barrier between my daughters and my fiancée.
"Please hurry," Chloe whimpered, forcing fake tears into her voice. "She's staring at me like she wants to kill me."
Chloe lowered the phone from her ear, a smug, victorious smirk playing across her lips. She looked at Marisol with pure venom.
"You're going to jail, you pathetic piece of trash," Chloe whispered.
"No, she isn't."
My voice cut through the massive living room like a gunshot. It wasn't loud, but the absolute, chilling authority in my tone made the entire room freeze.
Chloe spun around so fast she nearly tripped over her own heels. The fake tears evaporated instantly, her eyes bulging in utter, paralyzing shock. The phone slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor.
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"A-Alexander?" she stammered, the color draining from her face until she looked like a ghost.
I stepped fully into the room, my leather briefcase still in my hand. I looked at my daughters, then at Marisol, and finally, my gaze locked onto the woman I had almost married.
