Chapter 2: The Homecoming
Ethan Vance dropped his heavy travel bags onto the hardwood floor of the entryway, letting out a long, weary sigh. He had just endured a grueling, three-week corporate audit in Chicago, working eighteen-hour days. Throughout the entire trip, the only thing keeping him going was the thought of coming home to a safe, loving house, holding his beautiful new daughter, and wrapping his arms around his wife.
"Clara? Mom? I'm home!" Ethan called out, a warm smile touching his lips as he headed up the carpeted stairs.
He hadn't received a text from Clara in over twenty-four hours, which he had rationalized as the chaotic reality of newborn life. His mother had assured him over the phone that everything was handled perfectly. But as he reached the top landing, an eerie, suffocating silence hung in the air.
He pushed open the master bedroom door, the smile instantly dying on his face.
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The young father stared at the bed, his face turning completely pale. The vibrant, joyful wife he had left weeks ago was unrecognizable, lying unresponsive and bruised under the covers. Standing right beside her, holding a heavy wooden hanger she had been using as a weapon, was his own mother.
Ethan’s mind reeled in sheer, unadulterated horror. He didn't understand how his own flesh and blood—the woman who had raised him on values of faith and charity—could commit such horrific, animalistic violence.
