Chapter 6 - THE GHOSTS OF THE PAST
Wood shattered. The door flew open, letting in a swirl of freezing wind and snow.
David stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, an axe gripped in his hands. He looked wild, unhinged.
Then his eyes fell on me. And the tiny bundle resting on my chest.
The axe slipped from his hands, clattering onto the floorboards.
“Sarah,” he whispered, his voice cracking. He took a step forward, his eyes locked on the baby. “Is that…?”
“Stay back!” I yelled, pulling the towel tighter around my son. “Don’t you dare come near him!”
David fell to his knees in the middle of the room, tears spilling over his cheeks. “I didn’t want this. I never wanted this. I tried to stop her, but she… she threatened to show you the documents. The proof of who I really am.”
“I already know, David,” I said, my voice shaking with exhaustion and fury. “Rachel told me. I know about Clara. I know you’re not Eleanor’s son.”
David flinched as if I had struck him. He buried his face in his hands, sobbing. “She told me that if I didn’t help her run the channel, she would frame me for my father’s murder. She poisoned him, Sarah. And she planted the evidence in my room. She owns the police. She owns the mayor. I was trapped.”
“So you trapped me instead?” I spat, the anger giving me strength. “You let her lock your pregnant wife in an attic to save yourself?”
“I thought… I thought if we just gave them the baby, we could run away afterward,” he cried.
“She was never going to let me live, David! Just like she didn't let your mother live!”
David looked up, his eyes wide.
Before he could speak, the distinct, metallic click of a revolver echoed through the cabin.
Eleanor stepped out of the shadows of the doorway, holding a silver handgun. In her other hand, she held the camera, the red recording light blinking steadily.
“Such a touching family reunion,” Eleanor said, her voice dripping with venom. “And perfectly timed for the live broadcast.”
She pointed the gun directly at my chest.
“Mom, stop!” David screamed, scrambling to his feet and stepping between us.
“Move, David,” Eleanor commanded. “The subscribers are waiting. They pay for tragedy, not happy endings.”
“I won’t let you do this anymore,” David said, his voice trembling but resolute. He held his hands up. “It stops tonight.”
Eleanor laughed, adjusting the camera angle. “You weak, pathetic boy. You’re just like your mother. You break too easily.”
She cocked the hammer of the gun.
But I noticed something. Eleanor didn't have her coat on. And hanging from her belt was the blinking, familiar shape of my hidden phone.
Rachel hadn't run away. She had bumped into Eleanor in the woods, and Eleanor had taken the phone.
May you like
I met David’s eyes. I glanced at the phone on Eleanor’s belt, then back to him.
He understood.
