Chapter 1 - THE WOMAN WITH THE BASEBALL BATMy daughter’s scream reached me before I opened the front door.
“Dad! Please help us!”
I dropped my briefcase.
The double doors of our mansion stood unlocked.
That was wrong.
Elena never left them unlocked.
I ran through the marble foyer and entered the living room.
For one second, my mind refused to understand what I was seeing.
Mia and Leo were hiding beneath the coffee table.
Mia wore her light-blue hoodie.
Her face was wet with tears.
She had wrapped both arms around her six-year-old brother and pushed his head against her chest.
Leo wore a dark-blue shirt.
His bare feet dragged against the rug as he tried to crawl farther beneath the table.
Elena stood above them.
Beige long-sleeve top.
Dark cargo pants.
Dark hair tied back.
Both hands gripping a wooden baseball bat.
Family photographs lay shattered across the floor.
One frame showed my late wife, Sophia, holding Mia as a baby.
The glass covering Sophia’s face had been broken.
Elena raised the bat.
The children covered their heads.
I crossed the room before the bat descended.
My hands closed around the wood.
Elena spun toward me.
Shock entered her face.
“You’re supposed to be in Chicago.”
I tore the bat from her grip.
“You knew I was away?”
“Marcus, listen to me.”
I threw the bat across the rug.
It struck the base of the sofa.
I caught Elena by the shoulders and pulled her away from the coffee table.
Leo crawled out immediately.
He ran into my arms so hard that his forehead struck my chest.
I lifted him.
Mia followed more slowly.
She was shaking.
I pulled her against my side.
“You’re safe.”
Elena laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because she could not believe I had interrupted her.
“Ask them what they did.”
I stared at her.
“You were standing over them with a bat.”
“They destroyed private property.”
“They are eight and six.”
“They know exactly what they’re doing.”
Leo buried his face against my gray shirt.
Mia clung to the sleeve of my dark-blue jacket.
I felt her breathing too quickly.
I looked at both children.
No visible blood.
No obvious broken bones.
But Mia had a fading bruise near her wrist.
Leo flinched when I touched his shoulder.
Then I turned toward Elena.
The shock inside me changed.
Cold anger replaced it.
“What have you been doing to my children?”
Elena’s mouth opened.
No answer came.
Mia looked up at me.
Not relieved.
Terrified.
As if the baseball bat was not the worst thing in the room.
“Dad,” she whispered.
“What?”
“You can’t ask her here.”
“Why?”
“Because he can hear us.”
I looked around the living room.
Large glass doors overlooked the pool.
Bright natural daylight cut sharp shadows across the expensive furniture.
No one stood outside.
“Who can hear us?”
Mia’s eyes moved toward the family photographs.
Elena reacted instantly.
“Do not listen to her.”
I stepped between them.
“Mia?”
She pointed toward the photograph of Sophia.
The broken frame lay facedown beneath the coffee table.
“Mom’s picture has an ear.”
Elena lunged toward it.
I caught her wrist.
She fought harder than I expected.
Her nails tore across my hand.
“Let me go!”
Mia screamed.
Leo began crying again.
I pushed Elena back just far enough to place my body between her and the children.
She stopped struggling.
Her face changed.
The fury disappeared.
A softer expression replaced it.
The transformation was too fast.
“Marcus, please. You came home in the middle of a crisis. Mia had the bat first.”
Mia shook her head.
“She put it in my hands.”
Elena continued.
“The children have been acting out since Sophia’s anniversary.”
“You said they were doing well.”
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“The truth.”
That word made Mia grip me tighter.
Elena pointed toward the broken photographs.
“They hate me. They broke every photograph containing my face.”
I looked at the floor.
The opposite was true.
Photographs of Elena remained standing.
Only Sophia’s frames had been smashed.
Mia whispered:
“She was trying to find the key.”
Elena’s face went pale.
“What key?” I asked.
Mia started to answer.
Elena grabbed the baseball bat from the rug and swung it toward the coffee table.
I blocked the strike with my forearm.
The impact numbed my hand.
She raised the bat again.
This time, I caught it and twisted it free.
The wooden handle split against the edge of the table.
A hidden panel beneath the tabletop dropped open.
Something fell onto the rug.
A small black voice recorder.
Its red recording light was still blinking.
Elena stared at it.
May you like
Her anger vanished.
Real fear took its place.
Related Stories
