Chapter 3 - Eleanor's Panic and Denials
The audio recording continued to play, capturing the horrifying sounds of a wooden stick striking hard against wooden furniture and weeping children.
"Please, Mommy Eleanor, we're sorry! Don't hit us anymore!" young Noah's desperate voice echoed clearly through the digital device.
David’s breath hitched in his chest as the agonizing reality of what had been happening behind his back crashed down upon him.
"You absolute monster," David whispered, his voice dangerously low as he stepped slowly toward his pale, trembling wife.
"David, listen to me! The boys have behavioral issues, they lie, they provoked me!" Eleanor screamed, waving her hands frantically.
Clara stood firmly in front of the twins, her bright blue rubber cleaning gloves still on as she shielded the children with her body.
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"Mr. Vance, she locked them in the pantry for twelve hours last Tuesday while you were at the corporate summit in Chicago," Clara stated clearly.
Eleanor lunged forward like a cornered animal, attempting to slap Clara across the face for speaking out of turn.
