Chapter 4 - The Midnight Visitor
Clara and Mark froze. The hallway outside their apartment was dead quiet, save for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant ticking of the kitchen clock. Mark gestured for Clara to stay back as he crept toward the door, peering cautiously through the narrow peephole. The corridor was empty, but a thick manila envelope lay on the welcome mat just outside the threshold.
Mark unlocked the deadbolt slowly, pulling the door open just enough to grab the package before locking it behind him. He carried it to the kitchen island, placing it directly under the harsh overhead light. Clara stood beside him, her heart pounding against her ribs as Mark slit the tape with a paring knife.
Inside the envelope was a stack of printed bank statements, highlighted in yellow marker, alongside a handwritten note scrawled on heavy stationery.
"Stay away from the estate," the note demanded in shaky, aging handwriting. "If you expose Sarah, the truth about your father's accident will come out too."
Clara gasped, stumbling backward against the counter. Mark grabbed the edge of the island, his face draining of all color. The mention of his father’s fatal car crash five years ago struck a nerve far deeper than any financial theft. The police report had ruled it a tragic loss of control on a wet mountain road, but this note implied something sinister.
"That's impossible," Mark stammered, shaking his head in denial. "The brakes failed. The mechanics checked the car."
"Did they really check it, Mark, or did Sarah handle the insurance settlement?" Clara asked, her voice trembling as she connected the darkest dots of the conspiracy. "Your mother gave Sarah total control over the estate paperwork after the funeral. She could have buried any report she wanted."
The implications were staggering. Sarah wasn't just stealing money; she was blackmailing the entire household, keeping Eleanor isolated and dependent while manipulating everyone else through fear and debt.
Mark paced the small kitchen, his hands running through his short brown hair in frustration. "We are going back there at sunrise. No arguments. We need answers, and we need them face-to-face."
May you like
Clara nodded in grim agreement. But as she walked back down the hall to check on Lily in her crib, a floorboard creaked near the window, and a shadow darted across the alleyway below.
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