Chapter 3 - The Mahogany Drawer
The brass key turned with a dry, protesting squeak that sounded like a gunshot in the silent bedroom. Chloe held her breath, listening intently for Mark’s footsteps on the stairs, but the house remained eerily quiet save for the hum of the old refrigerator downstairs. With a gentle pull, the top drawer of the mahogany desk slid open, releasing a wave of dust and the distinct, papery scent of decades-old secrets.
Inside lay a neat stack of faded legal envelopes, bound together by a rubber band that had rotted into a sticky yellow ring. On top sat a photograph. Chloe picked it up with trembling fingers, bringing it closer to the weak morning light filtering through the dusty windowpane.
The picture showed a much younger Martha standing outside a maternity ward, holding a swaddled infant. Standing beside her was a man Chloe had never seen before—a tall man with striking green eyes and a sharp jawline that bore no resemblance to Mark’s heavy features. On the back of the photograph, written in Martha’s meticulous cursive, were the words: July 14, 1998. The insurance policy begins.
Chloe’s heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. July 14, 1998 was her birthday. But why would her birth be referred to as an insurance policy?
Footsteps suddenly creaked on the lower staircase. Heavy, deliberate steps. Mark was coming up.
May you like
Panic surged through Chloe’s veins. She frantically pushed the stack of envelopes back into the drawer, but as she slammed it shut, a single piece of paper fluttered out and drifted silently beneath the edge of the heavy wardrobe. Mark’s hand gripped the doorknob just as Chloe dived backward onto the bed, pulling the grey and white blanket up to her chin and feigning deep sleep.
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