Chapter 4 - The Trap is Sprung
My survival instincts kicked in with a speed I didn't know I possessed.
I yanked the phone cord from the charger, shoved the device into my pocket, and scrambled out from beneath the desk just as the door swung open.
Rachel stood in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at me standing by my father’s drawing board, my hands shaking, my eyes wide.
"What are you doing in here?" she asked, her voice tight with suspicion. "Daniel said you should be resting in bed."
"I... I missed my father," I said, letting a tear slip down my cheek. It wasn't hard to do; the sheer terror and grief of my situation were overwhelming. "I just wanted to feel close to him. Everything feels so blurry, Rachel. I don't know what's real anymore."
Rachel’s expression softened, but it was a predatory softness. She walked into the room, setting her coffee down on my father’s pristine oak desk.
"I know, sweetie," she said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. The scent of her floral perfume made me want to gag. "The medication takes time to adjust. Your mind is playing tricks on you because of the grief. That’s why Daniel and I are here. We’re going to take care of everything. We’re going to help you sign those papers this afternoon so you don't have to worry about the property taxes anymore."
"The papers..." I whispered.
"Yes, the trust transfer," she said, her fingers gently squeezing my arm. "Daniel is bringing them home for lunch. Once you sign them, we can get you into that lovely clinic in the hills. They have beautiful gardens, Clara. You can paint all day, and you won't have to think about any of this."
A golden cage, I thought. A permanent chemical coma.
"Okay," I said, nodding weakly. "I just... I want the noise in my head to stop."
"It will," she smiled, her eyes glittering with victory. "Go back to bed. I’ll bring you some soup."
I nodded and shuffled back to the master bedroom, playing the role of the broken, compliant victim to perfection. But the moment I shut the door, my mind went into overdrive.
I pulled out my phone. It had 12% battery.
I opened my messaging app and typed a message to Sarah.
Sarah, it’s Clara. I don't have much time. Daniel and Rachel are drugging me. They are trying to force me to sign over the house to pay off a debt to Lombardi. They are planning to commit me to a clinic tomorrow. Please, go to the police. Bring them to the house tonight. Do not call Daniel.
I pressed send.
The little loading bar hovered. Sending...
My heart stood still.
Failed to send. No network connection.
I looked at the top corner of the screen. The signal bars were completely gone. I rushed to the window, holding the phone against the glass. Nothing. Daniel had installed a signal jammer in the house. The only way he could access the internet was through the hardwired Ethernet cable in his home office downstairs.
I was completely cut off.
At 12:30 PM, the heavy wooden front door of the house opened. Daniel was back.
I heard their footsteps coming up the stairs. Not just Daniel and Rachel, but a third person. A man with a heavy, slow tread that made the floorboards groan.
They walked straight into my bedroom.
Daniel looked remarkably handsome in his tailored grey suit, but his face was grim. Rachel stood beside him, her arms crossed. Behind them stood Dr. Morrison, carrying a black leather medical bag.
"Clara," Daniel said, his voice dropping into that smooth, comforting register. "Dr. Morrison is here to do a quick evaluation. We want to make sure you're doing okay before we finalize the paperwork."
Dr. Sterling—no, Morrison—stepped forward. He had a fake, professional smile on his face. He opened his bag and pulled out a syringe pre-filled with a clear liquid.
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"Just a mild sedative to help with the anxiety, Clara," Morrison said, his voice devoid of any real empathy. "You’ve been very agitated lately. We just want to help you relax so we can get through these signatures."
I looked at the three of them. The trap was sprung. There was no more time for playing quiet.
