Chapter 3 - The Stepmother's Trap
Ruth shoved Caleb behind her broad frame, shielding the boy. "You're a psychopath," Ruth snarled. "I've seen what's in that cast. You’ve been torturing him!"
"Torture is such an ugly word," Marissa sighed, stepping into the room and locking the door behind her. She picked up a small, heavy bronze bookend from Caleb’s desk. "I consider it an acceleration of destiny. Anna died. Grant is broken. Caleb is just… a reminder of a past that doesn't belong to me."
"Grant will kill you when he sees this," Ruth spat.
Marissa laughed, a soft, chilling sound. "Grant isn't going to see anything. He took the sleeping pill I crushed into his scotch tonight. He won't wake up until tomorrow morning."
She took a slow step forward, gripping the bronze bookend.
"The story is so simple, Ruth," Marissa said smoothly. "Caleb’s psychosis escalated. He managed to break his cast. When you tried to stop him, he panicked and struck you with this bookend. A tragic accident. Then, in his manic, delusional state, the poor boy took too many of his father's painkillers."
Ruth’s blood ran cold. She looked at Marissa’s pockets and saw the orange glow of a prescription pill bottle. She intended to murder them both and stage it as a tragedy of a mentally disturbed child.
"Run, Caleb," Ruth whispered over her shoulder. "When I move, you run for the door."
"You're not going anywhere, old woman," Marissa hissed, raising the heavy bronze weight.
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Ruth didn't retreat. She roared, a deep, guttural sound of pure maternal fury, and charged the younger woman. She slammed her shoulder into Marissa’s chest, driving the billionaire’s wife backward into the heavy oak dresser. The bookend clattered to the floor.
"Go, Caleb! Go!" Ruth screamed.
