Chapter 3 - The Mistress’s Fury
Lauren Navaro stood up, the blanket dropping to the floor. Her face was twisted with an animalistic rage that shocked even me.
"You lied to me!" she shrieked at Alex, her voice bouncing off the high beamed ceilings of the cabin. "You told me your wife was an institutionalized lunatic who refused to give you a divorce! You told me this was your family estate! You told me you were the one funding my lifestyle!"
"Lauren, calm down, please!" Alex begged, hands raised defensively as his parents watched in absolute horror. "Bella is lying! She’s trying to manipulate you! She's jealous because she's old and dried up from spending all her time around rotting bones!"
"You piece of trash!" Lauren roared.
Before anyone could react, she lunged forward. Her manicured nails, filed into sharp points, aimed straight for his face. Alex didn't even have time to raise his hands before she struck him with the ferocity of a wild animal. Her nails tore deep gouges down his right cheek, ripping through the flesh from his eye to his jawline.
"Ahhhh! My face! My face!" Alex screamed, collapsing backward onto the leather sofa as blood erupted from the deep lacerations, staining his pristine white cashmere sweater in a brilliant, terrifying crimson.
"Alex!" Eleanor screamed, dropping the spatula and rushing forward. "You crazy bitch! Get off my son!"
Lauren wasn't finished. She grabbed a heavy crystal vase from the side table—another family heirloom—and raised it above her head, ready to bring it down on Alex’s skull.
"Marcus, now," I said calmly.
Marcus Vance was already moving. Despite his bulk, he caught Lauren’s wrist mid-air, twisting it cleanly until the vase dropped harmlessly onto the sofa cushions. He threw her against the wall, pinning her arms behind her back with a practiced efficiency.
"Let me go! He’s a thief! He stole my life! He promised me everything!" Lauren screamed, kicking wildly against the wood paneling.
The front door burst open, and three uniform Merrimack County deputy sheriffs rushed into the living room, guns drawn but quickly lowered as they assessed the situation.
"Sheriff! Thank God!" Eleanor wept, pointing a trembling finger at Lauren. "Arrest her! She tried to murder my son! Look at him! He’s bleeding to death!"
Alex was sobbing on the sofa, his hands covered in his own blood as it seeped through his fingers. He looked up at me, his eyes wide with a mixture of agony and terror. "Bella... help me... you're a doctor... please... it hurts so bad..."
I looked down at him, my expression completely blank. "I am an orthopedic trauma surgeon, Alex. I deal with bones. Soft tissue damage and superficial lacerations from a domestic dispute are entirely out of my specialty. You'll have to wait for the paramedics."
The lead deputy, a stern man named Sergeant Miller, walked over to Marcus. "Vance? What’s the situation here?"
"We have a breaking and entering, criminal trespass by the parents, grand larceny from the spouse, and now domestic assault with a deadly weapon," Marcus said, handing over his folder. "The homeowner, Dr. Sterling here, has the complete video evidence of the break-in that occurred at 11:15 last night."
Sergeant Miller nodded, turning to his deputies. "Cuff the girl. Get the parents out of the house and into the transport units. And call an ambulance for the husband."
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As the deputies pulled Lauren out of the house, she looked back at Alex, spitting blood onto the rug. "You're dead, Alex! You hear me? You think you can play me? You have no idea who I am! You have no idea what I’ve done!"
Her words sounded like the typical empty threats of a hysterical mistress, but an hour later, inside the stark, fluorescent-lit walls of the Merrimack County Precinct, those words would turn into a terrifying reality.
