Chapter 4 - The Confrontation at the Threshold
The bedroom door creaked open with agonizing slowness. Through a narrow slit between her eyelashes, Chloe watched Mark step into the room. He wasn't shouting now; his silence was infinitely more terrifying. His eyes swept across the room, lingering for a fraction of a second on the mahogany desk before shifting toward the bed where Chloe lay pretending to sleep.
"Get up, Chloe," Mark said quietly, his voice dangerously devoid of its usual explosive anger. "I know you were going through the desk."
Chloe slowly pushed herself up, pulling the light blue camisole closer around her. She refused to cower this time, letting her gaze meet his with a steady, defensive chill. "What is this house, Mark? What did Martha mean by her insurance policy?"
Mark’s face tightened. He took two steps forward, closing the distance between them with predatory grace. "You don’t know anything about this family. You think you’re just some stray we took in out of the goodness of our hearts? Martha hates you because you look too much like him."
"Like who?" Chloe demanded, her voice rising despite the warning bells in her head.
"Like the man who died in the fire that paid for this entire property," Mark whispered, his eyes locking onto hers with a dark, triumphant gleam. "And Martha thinks you’re here to finish what he started."
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Before Chloe could process the terrifying implication of his words, the front door downstairs banged open with a deafening crash, followed by Martha’s shrill, panicked voice screaming Mark’s name from the hallway below.
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