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PART 4: The Showdown at the Door
Heavy footsteps suddenly slammed on the wooden floorboards upstairs, followed by the sound of the front door swinging open.
“Claire?” Daniel’s voice echoed down from the hallway, sharp and alarmed. “Grace? Emily? Why is the basement door open?!”
My heart slammed against my ribs. Daniel had returned home early from work.
“Stay behind me, Sarah,” I commanded, pulling her up from the cot. I grabbed a heavy metal crowbar leaning against the workbench as Daniel rushed down the concrete stairs.
When he reached the bottom and saw me standing beside Sarah with the crowbar raised, his warm, handsome expression vanished, replaced by an icy, ruthless glare.
“You shouldn’t have opened that door, Claire,” Daniel said, his voice dropping an octave as he took a slow step forward. “We had a good life planned. You were supposed to be the mother my daughters needed.”
