Chapter 2 - The Silent House
The return to the mansion was suffocating. Every corner of the house reminded me of the jokes I used to tell, the foolishness of my younger self. Michael moved through the rooms with his usual authority, but the silence between us was heavy, filled with the ghosts of the man I thought I married.
He gave me the primary suite, complete with 24-hour surveillance and a nurse who looked more like a bodyguard. He didn't come to my room. He spent his nights in the west wing, the wing he shared with Emma.
I began to plan.
It started small. I noticed that the security guards were rotated every four hours, and that the blind spot in the camera system was exactly three feet wide near the library window—a quirk I had discovered while redecorating years ago. I kept a ledger. I memorized the patrol routes. I became the person Michael had taught me to be: observant, quiet, and dangerous.
One afternoon, while the house was quiet, I slipped into his private study. He had left his personal tablet on the mahogany desk. It was unlocked—his arrogance assuming that I was too broken to care.
I opened the financial files. My heart stopped.
He wasn't just buying land. He was laundering money through the Catholic parish Emma belonged to, using the guise of 'charity' to funnel millions into offshore accounts. He was using Emma’s faith as a shield, and the church was his vault.
Suddenly, the door creaked. I snapped the tablet shut just as Michael walked in. He looked at me, his eyes scanning the room, landing on the desk.
"Looking for something, Sarah?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
"Just looking for my husband," I lied, my heart hammering. "But I haven't seen him in days."
He walked toward me, his presence dominating the room. He reached out and touched my cheek—the same cheek that had gone cold in the desert. "You’re not yourself yet. The trauma has affected your memory. You don't want to leave this house, Sarah. You wouldn't survive ten minutes in the world outside."
May you like
"Try me," I whispered.
He pulled back, a cold smile touching his lips. "I’ll have the locks upgraded tomorrow. For your safety."
