Chapter 2: The Cracks in the Facade
The silence that followed was louder than the thunder. Julian stood frozen, his hand still on the doorframe, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What is she talking about, Mother?"
Beatrice was shaking. She gripped the railing, her knuckles turning white. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out—only a ragged, panicked intake of air.
"She’s delirious, Julian," Beatrice hissed, her voice trembling. "She’s… she’s trying to destroy us because she’s a scorned, angry woman. Don't listen to her!"
Sarah didn't retreat. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a manila envelope, keeping it protected from the rain. "I'm not delirious, Beatrice. I’m prepared. You thought I was busy being the perfect housewife, but while you were busy keeping your secrets, I was busy digging up your grave."
Julian looked from his mother to Sarah, his pulse visibly jumping in his neck. "What fire? What are you talking about?"
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"The fire that supposedly killed the real Beatrice Sterling in 1995," Sarah said, her voice rising now, clear and authoritative. "The fire that allowed a desperate woman, someone who was hiding from her own criminal past, to step into the life of a widow. You aren't Julian’s mother. You’re a ghost, and you’ve been haunting this family for thirty years."
Beatrice let out a strangled cry and turned to bolt into the house, but Sarah grabbed her arm with a strength that surprised them both. "Oh, no. The police are already on their way. And they aren't coming for a divorce hearing."
