I didn’t answer right away.
My hand drifted slowly toward my wooden cane. Not because I thought I could actually overpower him with it… but because it gave me something to grip. Something to keep my hands busy so my heart wouldn’t pound right out of my chest.
Chloe froze.
I could hear her breathing—short, rapid, broken. Noah started to cry, softly at first, then louder, as if he could feel the thick tension in the room.
The knock came again. Much harder this time.
“Mrs. Higgins… I know she’s in there.”
His voice still sounded perfectly friendly. That was what terrified me the most.
I looked over at Chloe.
She shook her head violently. Her eyes begged me: don’t open it.
But I knew… he wasn’t just going to walk away.
And the longer we stalled, the more dangerous the situation would get.
I walked slowly toward the front door.
Every step felt like a choice that couldn’t be taken back.
When I finally reached the wood, I called out:
“Who is it?”
“Marcus, ma’am. I just want to talk to my wife.”
Just talk.
I undid the deadbolt but left the heavy security chain in place. The door opened just a tiny sliver.
He stood out in the hall.
Neatly dressed.
Clean-shaven.
Eyes completely calm.
If I bumped into him on the street, I’d think he was a perfectly decent guy.
That’s exactly how monsters operate.
“Good morning, Mrs. Higgins,” he said politely. “Sorry to bother you.”
“You are bothering me,” I replied flatly.
His eyes narrowed a fraction, but that smile stayed glued to his face.
“My wife… she gets a little confused sometimes. I just want to take her home.”
Behind me, Noah began to wail louder.
His eyes darted instantly toward the noise.
“Chloe?” he called out, his tone softening. “Honey, come on. You’re making a scene.”
Chloe didn’t move an inch.
I shifted my weight to block the crack in the door.
“She’s staying here for a while,” I told him.
The smile finally broke.
“I don’t think that’s appropriate, ma’am.”