Chapter 4 - The Midday Performance
At noon, the front door clicked open. I heard them laughing before I saw them. Evelyn’s voice was high-pitched, triumphant, already planning where to put her antique china in my house, oblivious to the fact that the foundation was crumbling beneath her feet.
“Mara, darling!” Evelyn chirped as she walked into the living room, her expensive perfume choking the air, a scent I now associated with rot. “Daniel said you weren't feeling well, but you really should have—”
She stopped mid-sentence. Daniel walked in behind her, still smiling, but the expression froze on his face. He looked at me, his eyes darting to my face, looking for the concealer he had commanded me to wear. Then he saw him.
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My father sat in the armchair across from the sofa, his posture rigid, his eyes fixed on Daniel with the predatory stillness of a hawk. He wasn't wearing a suit, but his presence was heavier than any armor. Beside him sat my suitcase, fully packed, a silent declaration of war.
“Hello, Daniel,” my father said. The air in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees. “I think we have some accounting to discuss. And I believe you’re going to find the numbers quite unfavorable.”
