Chapter 10
Three days later, the bright, cinematic sunlight was shining down on the Bennett cul-de-sac once again. Arthur’s black SUV pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching softly against the pristine concrete. The neighborhood looked exactly as it always did—perfectly manicured lawns, white picket fences, the epitome of the American dream. But to Arthur, it felt like pulling up to a heavily fortified bunker.
He parked the car and quickly got out, moving to the passenger side to open the door for Elena. She was still weak, moving slowly, but the color had fully returned to her fair, rosy skin. She was wearing comfortable sweatpants and a thick sweater, clutching the baby carrier containing a sleeping Leo tightly against her chest.
Arthur wrapped a protective arm around her waist, guiding her up the concrete walkway toward the front door. The house was exactly as they had left it. The police had cleared the scene, but Arthur had sent a cleaning crew in before they arrived to throw away every last scrap of the massive feast and scrub the dining room clean.
He unlocked the front door and pushed it open, the heavy oak swinging inward. The house was quiet, smelling faintly of bleach and lemon cleaner.
"It feels different," Elena whispered, stepping into the foyer. She looked nervously toward the dining room, half expecting to see Margaret standing there in her pristine cardigan, wielding the carving knife.
"It's just us now," Arthur reassured her, locking the deadbolt and sliding the heavy chain into place. "I had the locks changed this morning. I've installed a full security system with exterior cameras. Nobody gets within fifty feet of this house without me knowing about it."
Elena set the baby carrier down on the living room rug and finally let out a long, deep breath. She walked over to Arthur and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest. "Are we safe, Arthur? Truly safe?"
"I won't let her near you ever again, Elena," Arthur promised, resting his chin on the top of her head. "The lawyers are already drafting a restraining order. We are going to fight her, and we are going to win."
But as he held his wife, Arthur’s eyes drifted toward the large bay windows in the living room. The bright sunlight illuminated the street outside perfectly.
Parked at the very end of the cul-de-sac, just outside the perimeter of their property line, was a sleek, black town car. Its engine was idling, a thin wisp of white exhaust curling into the crisp autumn air.
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Standing beside the open back door of the car was a figure dressed in a pristine white cardigan and tailored trousers. The woman’s fair, rosy skin caught the light as she stared directly at the Bennett’s front door. Margaret was not hiding. She was not retreating. She was simply standing there, a physical manifestation of the looming threat, watching them with cold, calculating patience.
Arthur’s jaw clenched, his hand instinctively balling into a fist. He didn't tell Elena. He just pulled her closer, his eyes locked on the black town car. The initial battle was over, but looking at his mother standing in the bright sunlight, Arthur knew the true war for his family's survival had only just begun.
