Chapter 4 - The Predator at the Door
"Hide," I whispered to Maya, my voice dropping to a sharp command.
Maya grabbed Quincy, pulling him into the small pantry in the back of the kitchen, shutting the slatted door completely. I stood up, holding Clara tightly against my chest, my eyes locked on the heavy oak front door of the cabin. The fire in the stove crackled loudly, the only sound in the suffocating silence.
The heavy thud of footsteps vibrated through the floorboards of the porch. Then, the door didn't knock—it was kicked open with a violent slam that sent wood splinters flying into the room.
Thomas stepped through the threshold.
He was drenched from the rain, his expensive cashmere coat ruined, his face twisted into an expression of pure, unadulterated rage. Behind him stood two men in dark suits—corporate security guards from Vance International.
"Eleanor," Thomas growled, his voice vibrating with a dangerous, unstable energy. "You took my son. You took a dead body from the hospital. You have completely lost your mind. Give me Quincy, and give me the child. We are going back to the clinic to get you psychiatric help."
I looked at my husband—the man I had slept beside for four years, the man I thought was a grieving, gentle soul. Now, I saw him for what he truly was: a weak, pathetic puppet controlled entirely by his mother’s psychotic ambition.
"She isn't dead, Thomas," I said, stepping into the light of the wood stove, pulling back the flannel shirt so he could see Clara’s bright, wide-open eyes. "Look at her. Look at your daughter. Your mother had her thrown into a medical waste bin. Did you know? Or are you just too much of a coward to ask what happens to the women who marry into your family?"
Thomas’s eyes flickered with a brief, microscopic flash of horror as he looked at the living baby. He genuinely hadn't known she was alive. Beatrice had lied to him too, telling him the baby had died during delivery to keep his hands clean.
But the horror in his eyes was quickly swallowed by a cold, calculating look of survival.
"It doesn't matter, Eleanor," Thomas whispered, his voice dropping to a chillingly detached tone. "If the world finds out she’s alive, the company shares will crash. The board will audit the estate. My mother... my mother will destroy everything I’ve built. She’s alive today, but she can't be alive tomorrow. Give her to me."
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"You are a monster," I whispered, backing away toward the kitchen counter, my hand quietly feeling behind me for the heavy iron skillet Maya had left near the stove.
"I am a Vance," Thomas corrected me, signaling the two security guards to advance. "Take the baby. If Eleanor resists... make sure she doesn't leave this forest."
