Chapter 6 - The Velvet Mask Slips
Evelyn froze, her hand hovering near her throat. For a split second, genuine terror flashed across her features, but years of practiced deception quickly reasserted control. She forced a hollow, trembling laugh, stepping closer and reaching out to touch my arm.
“David, what are you talking about? Did the hospital social worker give you a hard time? You know how dramatic Lily can get when she has a tantrum—she throws herself around, she says the wildest things—”
“Stop talking, Evelyn,” I interrupted, my voice flat and monotone.
She blinked, her hand dropping to her side. The synthetic sweetness vanished from her face like smoke in a gale, replaced by a cold, calculating annoyance. She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Fine,” she spat, her tone sharpening into acid. “So you figured out I locked her in the brace. Big deal. That spoiled little brat has been ruining our life for years. Every cent of your military pension goes into her medical treatments, her special schooling, her constant doctors' visits. We have no life, David! I deserve luxury! I deserve to be wealthy!”
In the earpiece hidden in my ear, I heard Captain Miller’s heavy breathing over the secure radio channel as every word of her confession streamed live into the state police cruiser parked outside.
“And Greg?” I asked, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “Does Greg deserve a cut of my life insurance payout too?”
Evelyn didn't even flinch. Instead, a slow, predatory smile spread across her lips. She turned on her heel, walking toward the kitchen island.
“Oh, so you found the file on the laptop too? Brilliant. I always knew you were smart, Special Ops hero, but you always lacked imagination.” She reached behind the espresso machine and pulled out a crystal decanter filled with amber-colored whiskey. “Which brings us right on schedule.”
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She poured two fingers of whiskey into a heavy crystal glass, swirling the liquid lazily.
“Greg is in the guest house out back, waiting for confirmation,” Evelyn continued, her voice dripping with venom. “And you, my dear husband, are going to sit right here, drink this nice celebratory Christmas nightcap, and have a very sudden, very fatal cardiac event. Just like we planned.”
