Chapter 1 - The Night Austin Came Home Early
“Scream all you want. Austin is halfway to London.”
Margaret tightened her fist in my hair and yanked my head backward.
Pain flashed across my scalp.
I tried to protect my stomach with both arms.
I was twelve weeks pregnant.
Not far enough along for anyone looking at me to immediately know, but far enough that every violent movement sent terror through me.
“Tell me the code.”
“I don’t know what you’re looking for.”
Her palm struck my cheek.
My shoulder hit the marble floor.
Across the bedroom, Carla swung a hammer at the electronic lock of the wall safe.
Bang.
The metal casing jumped.
“Mom, she’s lying!”
Carla swung again.
Bang.
A section of the control panel cracked away.
I tried crawling toward the bathroom.
Margaret grabbed my ankle.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Get off me!”
She dragged me backward.
My nightgown twisted around my legs.
I kicked free once.
She caught my hair again.
“You were nobody before Austin married you.”
She pulled me closer.
“And now you think you can lock his family out of what belongs to us?”
“It doesn’t belong to you.”
Her expression changed.
That was apparently the wrong answer.
She slapped me again.
“You worthless little thief.”
Carla laughed.
“Break her first if you have to.”
Then the bedroom door moved.
Neither woman noticed.
I did.
Austin stood in the doorway.
Rainwater darkened his shirt.
His suitcase was still downstairs.
His face had gone completely still.
He was supposed to be on a flight to London for a three day investor conference.
A thunderstorm had canceled departure.
I did not know that yet.
All I knew was that my husband was suddenly there.
For one second I felt pure relief.
Then I saw him lift his phone.
Not toward me.
Toward them.
Recording.
Margaret dragged me another foot.
“Tell me the code!”
Carla slammed the hammer into the safe.
The damaged lock finally gave.
The door jerked open.
Stacks of emergency cash fell onto the floor.
Carla gasped.
“Yes.”
She dropped the hammer and began grabbing everything.
Cash.
Two velvet jewelry cases.
A gold bar Austin’s grandfather had given him.
And folders.
Those mattered more to her than the money.
“Mom, I found them.”
Margaret released my hair.
“What papers?”
“The Wentworth file.”
My heart stopped.
I knew which file.
Austin had put it in the safe three nights earlier after receiving a courier package from his late father’s former attorney.
He had not explained everything inside.
He only said:
“Until I understand this, nobody touches it.”
Apparently Margaret knew enough to come looking.
Carla shoved the folders into a suitcase beside the bed.
Margaret kicked my side.
Not hard enough to send me across the floor.
Hard enough to make me cry out and curl around my stomach.
That was when Austin moved.
“Get your hands off my wife!”
His voice exploded through the room.
Margaret spun around.
Carla dropped a stack of cash.
“Austin?”
He came inside fast.
Still recording.
Margaret’s face transformed.
Not guilt.
Performance.
“Oh my God.”
She put both hands over her mouth.
“Son, thank God you’re here.”
Austin ignored her.
He dropped to his knees beside me.
“Irene.”
“I’m okay.”
I wasn’t.
“Baby?”
“I don’t know.”
His face changed.
He dialed 911 without lowering the camera.
“My name is Austin Wentworth. Two people are inside my home attacking my pregnant wife and breaking into a safe. I need police and an ambulance at my address now.”
Carla went white.
“Austin, wait.”
Margaret started crying.
Instantly.
“She attacked us!”
Austin slowly looked at her.
Margaret pointed at me.
“We caught her stealing from you. Carla and I were trying to stop her.”
Austin looked at the broken safe.
The hammer.
My swollen face.
The suitcase.
Then his phone.
“Good.”
Margaret blinked.
“What?”
“Lie to the police exactly like that.”
He turned the screen toward her.
Red recording timer.
Margaret’s mouth opened.
Carla whispered:
“Mom.”
Austin wrapped one arm around me.
Carla suddenly lunged for the suitcase.
Austin kicked it away.
It flipped.
Cash and documents scattered across the marble.
A page slid beneath the edge of the bed.
Carla dove for it.
Austin got there first.
He picked it up.
Read.
His expression changed.
Rage disappeared.
Something colder replaced it.
“What is it?” I whispered.
He did not answer.
Margaret stopped crying.
Completely.
Austin looked at the date printed at the top.
Then at the signature line.
His own name.
His own signature.
His voice dropped.
“Why is this document dated tomorrow?”
Nobody spoke.
Then he looked directly at his mother.
“And why is my signature already on it?”
Police sirens grew louder outside.
May you like
Margaret took one step backward.
And for the first time that night, she looked more frightened of the paper than of the police.
