Chapter 4 - Operational Lockdown
At 11:45 PM, headlights cut through the darkness of our quiet street.
The low hum of a European sports car echoed off the suburban houses. Julian's convertible pulled into the driveway, stopping just short of my stacked duffel bags.
The passenger door opened. Claire stepped out, wearing a silk designer dress, a pair of expensive sunglasses tucked into her hair, carrying a shopping bag from an upscale boutique. She was laughing, tossing her head back, fully immersed in her fantasy world.
Julian stayed in the driver's seat, leaning over to wave. "See you Tuesday, sweetheart," he called out.
"Shh! Ethan might be home!" Claire giggled, turning around.
Then, the sensor lights on the porch flashed on, blinding them both in a harsh, 5000-Kelim white floodlight.
Claire froze. Her laughter died instantly in her throat.
I was sitting in a wooden folding chair on the porch, wearing my tactical trousers and black boots. Rex was lying quietly at my feet, his dark eyes locked onto Julian's car.
"Ethan?" Claire stammered, putting a hand over her eyes against the glare. "What... what are you doing sitting out here in the dark? Why are there bags on the driveway?"
Julian pulled the car into reverse, sensing immediate danger, but before he could step on the gas, two unmarked police cruisers pulled into the mouth of the driveway, blocking his exit completely. Red and blue lights began to stroke the night sky.
"Ethan! What is this?!" Claire shrieked, her voice turning shrill. "Have you lost your mind?! You brought the police to our house?!"
I stood up slowly. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't march down the steps. I stayed on the porch, looking down at her like a commander evaluating a fallen target.
"Your bags are packed, Claire," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the quiet night. "Everything you own is in those duffels."
"Are you insane?!" She took a step toward the porch. "I went to get groceries! I had a migraine! I needed help!"
"You were in Napa," I corrected her coldly. "Room 402 at the St. Helena Resort. You departed at 08:00 AM with Julian Vance. You spent four hundred dollars on spa treatments using our joint card."
Claire’s face went entirely drain-white. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. She looked frantically over her shoulder at Julian, who was currently being ordered out of his vehicle by two sheriff's deputies.
"Ethan... baby, listen to me," she stuttered, her tone shifting violently from anger to desperate pleading. "I was exhausted... I was experiencing postpartum depression! I didn't know what I was doing! Valerie offered to watch Mateo!"
"Valerie is seven years old, Claire," I said, my eyes burning into hers. "She was burning with a 103-degree fever. She injured her lumbar spine trying to carry her infant brother because you threatened to starve them if the floors weren't clean."
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"I was just trying to teach her responsibility!" Claire screamed, dropping her boutique bag. "She's lazy! She needed to learn!"
"She's a child," I said softly. "And you are a monster."
