Chapter 4 - The Art of the Trap
The black SUV pulled into the driveway just after 2:00 PM on a rainy Tuesday.
Lucas sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of cold coffee. He hadn't shaved in three days, and he wore a faded, wrinkled flannel shirt. He needed to look like a man who was broken, exhausted, and completely unaware of his impending doom.
The front door swung open. Rachel walked in first, dragging a Louis Vuitton suitcase, her skin glowing with a fresh tan. Derek was right behind her, followed by Gregory and Pamela.
"Lucas!" Rachel called out, her voice dripping with fake exhaustion. "We're home! God, the flight was awful."
She walked into the kitchen and stopped. She looked at Lucas, then glanced toward the hallway leading to the laundry room. Her eyes flashed with a dark, anticipatory excitement.
"Where is Grandfather?" Pamela asked, stepping into the room, holding a tissue to her face as if preparing for a tragedy. "Is he sleeping?"
Lucas looked down at his coffee mug. He forced his voice to tremble. "I... I haven't checked on him today. I've been working double shifts. I thought... I thought the nurse was coming."
Rachel’s eyes widened in feigned horror. "What nurse, Lucas? I left you a note! I told you we canceled the nurses! Have you not checked on him in two weeks?!"
She didn't even wait for his answer. Rachel sprinted down the hallway, screaming, "Grandfather! Grandfather!"
Derek smirked at Lucas, a look of pure, predatory triumph on his face. "You really messed up this time, buddy. Leaving a helpless old man alone?"
Suddenly, a loud, piercing shriek echoed from the back bedroom. Rachel came running back into the living room, her face pale, tears streaming down her cheeks—an Oscar-worthy performance.
"He's gone!" she sobbed, collapsing into Derek’s arms. "My God, he's cold! Lucas, you killed him! You left him in there to die!"
Gregory pulled out his phone, his face set in a grim mask. "I'm calling the police, Lucas. You're going to prison for this. Derek, call the estate lawyers. We need to secure the company assets immediately before this murderer tries to touch anything."
Lucas stood up slowly. He didn't defend himself. He didn't raise his voice. He just looked at his wife, who was hiding her smile against Derek's chest.
"You're right," Lucas said softly. "The lawyers are already on their way. They asked us to meet them at the company boardroom in one hour to read the contingency will."
Rachel looked up, confused by his calm demeanor but too blinded by greed to care. "Fine. We'll go to the office. And when we're done, you're packing your trash and getting out of my house."
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"Okay," Lucas whispered.
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