Chapter 1 - Behind the GlassLucy was already curled inside the washing machine when the first tear slipped from her chin.
The machine was completely off.
No water.
No spinning.
No heat.
Nothing moved except the frightened eight-year-old girl trapped behind the round glass door.
Her knees were pulled against her chest.
Her brown hair stuck to her wet cheeks.
She struck both palms against the glass.
THUMP.
THUMP.
“Richard! Let me out!”
Her breathing came quickly, but freely.
“I’m scared!”
Richard stood directly in front of the machine.
Forty-one years old.
Barefoot.
Gray T-shirt.
Dark lounge pants.
His shoulders were relaxed.
His face was not.
He stared down at Lucy with lowered brows and cold impatience, as if she were inconveniencing him.
Lucy hit the glass again.
“Please…”
Richard did not move.
“Open the door…”
For a moment, Lucy still believed he would.
She searched his face for the smallest sign of mercy.
Instead, one corner of Richard’s mouth lifted.
“Remember…”
He waited until she was looking directly at him.
“…not to disobey me next time.”
Lucy’s eyes widened.
Something changed inside them.
Hope disappeared.
Richard watched that happen.
Then calmly turned around.
“Richard!”
He continued toward the doorway.
“Please!”
He left.
Lucy struck the glass again.
THUMP.
THUMP.
“Richard!”
Her cries followed him into the hallway.
Richard never looked back.
Twenty-seven minutes later, Amanda’s sedan turned through the iron gates of the mansion.
She was thirty-four, still dressed in a navy suit after a long day at the offices of Caldwell Heritage Group, the property and investment company her late father had built.
She parked.
Checked one email while standing beside the car.
Then stopped herself.
Home.
Lucy had complained recently that Amanda was “always looking at rectangles.”
Phones.
Laptops.
Tablets.
Amanda smiled at the memory and slipped the phone into her handbag.
Inside, the mansion was unusually quiet.
“Lucy?”
No answer.
“Richard?”
Nothing.
Amanda changed her shoes near the entrance.
Her eyes fell on a laundry basket waiting beside the staircase.
She sighed.
Richard had promised to take it downstairs.
Of course he had forgotten.
Amanda picked it up herself.
She walked toward the laundry room.
Premium stone flooring reflected the warm ceiling lights.
She reached the doorway.
Then—
THUMP.
Amanda stopped.
Her brows knitted.
THUMP! THUMP!
She turned.
The basket slipped several inches in her hands.
For one fraction of a second, her brain refused to understand what she was seeing.
A face.
Behind glass.
Tiny hands.
“LUCY?!”
The basket hit the floor.
Amanda ran.
Lucy’s head snapped toward her.
“MOM!”
Hope exploded across the child’s face.
She began striking the glass faster.
Amanda grabbed the washing-machine handle.
Opened the inactive machine.
Lucy unfolded herself and practically fell forward.
Amanda caught her.
Lucy wrapped both arms around her mother’s neck.
Her whole body shook.
“Oh my God.”
Amanda dropped to her knees.
“I’ve got you.”
Lucy sobbed against her shoulder.
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Amanda touched Lucy’s face.
Her arms.
Her shoulders.
“Are you hurt?”
Lucy shook her head.
“Can you breathe okay?”
A nod.
Amanda looked into the machine.
Completely dry.
Completely still.
Then back at her daughter.
“Lucy.”
Her voice changed.
“Who put you in there?”
Lucy’s sobbing became quieter.
“Richard…”
Amanda froze.
The name seemed to remove every sound from the room.
“What?”
“He told me…”
Lucy swallowed.
“…not to disobey him again.”
Amanda stared at her daughter.
Shock came first.
Then disbelief.
Then a pain so sharp it almost folded her in half.
Finally, something colder replaced both.
She stood.
Lucy clung to her hand.
Amanda turned toward the hallway.
“RICHARD!”
Her voice tore through the mansion.
Upstairs, Richard slept peacefully across their bed.
Amanda’s scream reached the room.
“RICHARD!”
His eyes snapped open.
For half a second, he looked confused.
Then he recognized Amanda’s voice.
His forehead tightened.
His head lifted from the pillow.
And something moved behind his eyes.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
He knew exactly why she was shouting.
Amanda had already taken three steps toward the hallway when Lucy grabbed her sleeve.
“Mom.”
Amanda stopped immediately.
Lucy’s face had gone pale again.
“What?”
“Don’t leave me.”
Amanda’s fury shattered.
She knelt and pulled Lucy against her.
“I’m not leaving you.”
Footsteps sounded above them.
Slow.
Measured.
Richard was coming.
Amanda reached for her phone.
Her hands shook as she dialed 911.
Richard appeared at the top of the staircase.
“Amanda?”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“What’s going on?”
Amanda stared up at the man she had shared a bed with for three years.
Then Lucy whispered something into her shoulder.
Something Richard could not hear.
Amanda could.
“He did it because I saw the red folder.”
Amanda’s eyes changed.
May you like
Richard noticed.
For the first time, his calm expression cracked.
Related Stories
