Chapter 4 - The Unmasking
The cold inside the empty foyer seemed to deepen, wrapping around Helen and Violet like a wet shroud.
"What... what video?" Helen whispered, her voice losing its aggressive edge, replaced by the first trembling notes of raw fear.
"The video of last night's dinner," Marcus said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small tablet. He tapped the screen and held it up.
In the stark light of the foyer, the footage played out with terrifying clarity. The audio was so crisp that the sound of the boiling soup hitting my face sounded like a crack of thunder. The camera captured Helen’s cold, unblinking eyes as she held the empty bowl, and Violet’s triumphant, vicious smile in the background.
“Give her all your things — or get out!”
The words echoed through the empty house, a sickening testament to their cruelty.
"This is domestic violence, Helen," Marcus said, his voice dropping into a register that made Helen’s knees visibly shake. "In the state of Connecticut, throwing a boiling liquid at someone's face constitutes assault in the second degree, which is a Class D felony carrying a mandatory minimum prison sentence. And because you did it to extort her personal property, we are also filing charges for coercion and grand larceny."
"No..." Violet whimpered, stepping back toward the door. "I didn't do anything! I didn't touch her!"
"You stood by, encouraged the assault, and attempted to benefit from the stolen property," Marcus said, turning his cold gaze to her. "Under state law, you are an active co-conspirator. Your interview tomorrow? I suggest you cancel it. The local precinct has already issued a warrant for both of your arrests."
Right on cue, the dark driveway outside illuminated with the flashing red and blue lights of three police cruisers. The sirens were silent, but the strobes cast a frantic, rhythmic glow through the bare windows of the mansion, painting the empty walls in shades of emergency.
"No!" Helen screamed, running toward Marcus, her hands clawing at the air. "You can't do this to me! I am a prominent member of the Greenwich Historical Society! I have a reputation!"
"Your reputation, Helen, is about to become public property," Marcus said, stepping back as two uniformed police officers entered the foyer, their boots thudding heavily on the hardwood floors.
"Mrs. Helen Crawford?" the lead officer asked, his face grim as he looked at the older woman.
"This is a mistake!" Helen shrieked, her voice echoing off the empty ceiling. "My daughter is a liar! She’s mentally unstable! She burned herself to frame me!"
"We have the digital forensics from the security server, ma'am," the officer replied, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt. "The video was uploaded in real-time last night. There is no editing, no tampering. Put your hands behind your back."
Violet began to sob hysterically, dropping to her knees on the cold, bare floor as the second officer stepped toward her. "Please! I have an interview tomorrow! I have a life! This isn't fair!"
"Life isn't fair, Violet," Marcus murmured as he watched the steel bracelets click shut around Helen’s wrists. "But the law is remarkably precise."
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As the officers led them out of the hollow house, Helen turned back, her eyes wild with a desperate, animalistic fury. "Where is she?! Where is Nora?! Let me speak to her!"
"Nora is exactly where you can never reach her again," Marcus said, closing his blue folder with a sharp, final snap. "In the light."
