Chapter 2 - The Uninvited Guest
The heavy chime of the doorbell echoed through the silent house, hanging in the air like a physical weight. Arthur didn’t move. His gaze darted from Elena to his mother, Clara, who stood frozen by the dining table, her fingers still clutching the red cloth she had dropped earlier.
“I asked you a question, Elena,” Arthur growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Did you give her our address?”
“No,” Elena breathed, shifting Lily in her arms as the toddler whimpered again. “I swear to you, Arthur, I only spoke to her assistant over the phone this morning. I didn't schedule a meeting for tonight. I wouldn't do that to Lily, not on Christmas Eve.”
Clara swallowed hard, adjusting the collar of her maroon cardigan. “Arthur, go check the peephole. It might be the neighbors bringing over the holiday pie we ordered.”
“On Christmas Eve at nine o'clock? Not a chance,” Arthur snapped, though he finally turned away from Elena. He walked past the twinkling Christmas tree, his heavy footsteps sounding unnaturally loud on the hardwood floor.
Elena watched him go, her mind racing. Evelyn Halm was a ghost from a past Elena had barely begun to uncover. How could she possibly know where they lived unless someone close to Arthur—or someone spying on Elena—had tipped her off?
Arthur reached the entryway, placed his hand on the brass doorknob, and yanked the door open.
Standing on the porch under the amber glow of the outdoor lantern was not a neighbor. It was a tall woman in her late forties with sharp, intelligent eyes, wearing a tailored charcoal overcoat that looked expensive and entirely out of place in their suburban neighborhood. In her gloved hand, she held a manila envelope.
“Good evening, Arthur,” the woman said smoothly, her voice carrying easily into the foyer. “I hope I'm not interrupting your family dinner. My name is Evelyn Halm.”
From the dining room, Elena gasped, clutching Lily so tightly that the toddler stirred uncomfortably.
Arthur’s face drained of color. For a second, he looked as though he might throw up. Instead, he gripped the edge of the door so hard his knuckles turned white. “You have a lot of nerve coming to my home. Get off my property before I call the police.”
Evelyn didn't flinch. A faint, knowing smile touched the corner of her lips as she looked past Arthur’s shoulder straight toward the dining room.
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“You can call the police, Arthur,” Evelyn said, stepping uninvited across the threshold, “or you can let me show your wife what her parents really signed away thirty years ago.”
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