Chapter 4 - The Face-to-Face Reckoning
Emily didn't run; instead, she stepped smoothly out of the pitch-black alcove and into the faint pool of moonlight by the foyer mirror.
Daniel froze halfway down the staircase, his hand gripping the wooden banister so tightly his knuckles turned completely white.
His jaw slackened, his eyes bulging in pure, unadulterated horror as if he were staring straight at an apparition from the grave.
"Hello, Daniel," Emily whispered, her voice cutting through the silent house like a shard of broken glass.
Color drained instantly from Daniel's face, leaving him looking like a corpse himself as he stammered a broken, incoherent denial.
"No... no, that's impossible. I saw... I put you..." He couldn't even finish the sentence, betraying his guilt to the empty air.
Claire appeared at the top of the stairs wrapped in a silk robe, gasping loudly as she took in the horrifying sight below them.
"What is going on down—oh God," Claire shrieked, her hand flying to her mouth as her knees buckled against the carpeted step.
"Surprised to see me, husband?" Emily took a slow, deliberate step forward, her eyes locked onto Daniel with terrifying intensity.
Daniel backed away, his facade of a charming, successful architect shattering completely into a puddle of cowardly desperation.
"Emily... please, let's talk about this. It was a mistake, a terrible misunderstanding," Daniel pleaded, holding his hands up defensively.
"A mistake? You put me in a wooden box and threw dirt on my face while I was still breathing," Emily spat back venomously.
Claire recovered her composure faster than Daniel, her eyes darting toward the heavy antique telephone resting on the hallway desk.
With a sudden burst of movement, Claire lunged for the phone receiver, screaming, "I'm calling the police, Daniel, stop her!"
Emily was faster; she sprinted across the foyer, intercepting Claire and slamming her hand down on the cradle before a dial tone sounded.
"The police are already involved, Claire, but not the ones you've been paying off for the last three years," Emily said coldly.
Daniel recovered his wits, realizing that witnesses would destroy him faster than a ghost; his expression hardened into vicious malice.
He lunged down the remaining steps, tackling Emily toward the front door with brutal, calculated force that knocked the wind from her.
They tumbled across the hardwood floor, Emily struggling fiercely against his superior weight while reaching desperately for the brass letter opener.
"I should have used deeper soil," Daniel snarled in her ear, his fingers wrapping tightly around her throat to cut off her air supply.
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Black spots danced across Emily's vision, but the memory of her daughter Sophie gave her one last surge of uncontrollable fury.
With a sharp gasp, she pulled the heavy brass letter opener from her pocket and drove it straight into his shoulder.
