Chapter 6: The Broken Alibi
When I returned home, the house was empty. David’s car was still gone from the driveway, his corporate schedule keeping him downtown late for a board dinner. I walked through the front door, the silence of the living room pressing in on me. This was the exact spot where Eleanor had stood a week ago, pointing her finger and screaming her venomous demands. Now, the room felt less like a battleground and more like a staging area.
I checked on Maya upstairs. She was fast asleep in her crib, her chest rising and falling in a peaceful, rhythmic beat. I brushed a stray curl of baby-fine hair from her forehead, whispering a silent promise that no one would ever take her home away.
Downstairs, I placed David’s flash drive back into the exact spot in the master bedroom dresser where I had found it. The copy of every file now rested securely on Arthur Miller’s encrypted cloud servers. David would never know the drive had left his sight, let alone that its secrets had been laid bare before an officer of the court.
At eight o'clock, the front door clicked open. David walked into the foyer, loosening his silk tie with a heavy, performative sigh. He looked exhausted, the stress of playing the dutiful son on one hand and the loving husband on the other finally wearing down his polished facade.
"Clara?" he called out, tossing his leather briefcase onto the entryway bench. "Are you still awake?"
I walked out of the kitchen holding a mug of chamomile tea. I kept my face neutral, masking the surge of adrenaline that always accompanied his presence now.
"I'm awake," I said quietly. "How was the board meeting?"
"Long. Exhausting," David said, walking over and leaning in to press a perfunctory kiss against my cheek. He smelled of scotch, expensive cologne, and corporate ambition. "Mother was there for the first hour. She asked about Maya. She still thinks... well, she thinks we should reconsider our living arrangements. She wants us closer to her estate on the north side."
I took a slow sip of my tea, letting the silence stretch between us just long enough to make him uncomfortable.
"Is that right?" I asked. "And what did you tell her, David?"
David sighed, running a hand through his thinning brown hair. He walked over to the kitchen counter and poured himself a glass of water. "I told her we're fine here, Clara. But you know how she is. She worries. She thinks our modest setup isn't secure enough for a growing family. Sometimes... sometimes it's just easier to let her think she's winning a few points so she doesn't pull funding from the expansion project."
"Funding for your company, you mean," I said, my voice level.
David froze, the glass halfway to his mouth. He turned his head sharply to look at me, his eyes narrowing in sudden suspicion. "What did you say?"
"I said funding for your company," I repeated, stepping closer. "The expansion project that relies entirely on Eleanor's holding accounts. Accounts that seem to be tied up in property deeds and legal guarantees that don't belong solely to you anymore."
David set the glass down with a sharp clink, water sloshing over the rim. His polite, weary husband act vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, corporate defensiveness.
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"Where is this coming from, Clara?" he demanded, his voice rising. "Have you been going through my things again? Is that what you do while I'm out working to support this family?"
"No, David," I replied, holding his gaze with a terrifying, unyielding calm. "I haven't been going through your things. The truth has a funny way of coming out into the light, no matter how many locked drawers you keep it in."
