Chapter 5 - The Trap is SetThe morning sunlight cut across the kitchen floor in sharp, golden slats, but the warmth of the day couldn't thaw the ice in my veins.
I had spent the rest of the night reviewing every digital footprint Rachel and Melissa had left behind over the years. Emails, text transcripts, bank logs, and old calendar entries. It was all there, hidden in plain sight behind a mask of sisterly devotion. Melissa hadn't just been planning to steal my son; she had eliminated the obstacle in her way fourteen months prior to secure total control over the family estate and insurance payouts, intending to groom me and Ethan into her dependent household.
At 7:00 AM, my phone rang. It was Detective Miller.
"Mark, we’re mobilizing," she said briskly. "SWAT and local units are heading to Melissa’s residence right now to execute the arrest warrant. I want you and Ethan to stay put until we confirm she’s in custody."
"Detective, wait," I said, my voice hard and resolute. "She’s not at her house."
"What do you mean? How could you possibly know that?"
"Because she knows the net is closing. She sent me a threat last night. If you raid an empty house, she’ll go underground, and she might try to reach Ethan."
There was a brief pause on the line. "Where do you think she is?"
"She’s coming here," I replied, staring at the live feed of my front porch security camera on my tablet screen. A dark sedan had just pulled up to the curb, parking half on the grass. "She thinks she can finish what she started yesterday. Let her come."
"Mark, absolutely not! Do not engage her! We are three minutes away—"
"Give me three minutes, Detective," I said, and hung up the phone before she could argue further.
I walked upstairs, checked on Ethan—who was still fast asleep, completely unaware of the storm raging outside—and locked his bedroom door from the outside. Then I walked back down to the kitchen, leaving the front door unlocked.
I stood by the island, my arms crossed, watching the front entryway.
Two minutes later, the front door clicked open.
Melissa stepped inside.
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She looked entirely different from the composed, weeping sister-in-law at the hospital. Her hair was pulled back into a tight, severe bun, her designer jacket was wrinkled, and her eyes were wild, bloodshot, and frantic. In her right hand, she gripped a small, dark object half-hidden inside her designer handbag.
"Mark," she said, her voice eerily calm as she closed the door behind her. "You really should have taken the hint last night."
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