Chapter 8 - Returning To The Greenwich Mansion With Cold Fury
Evelyn’s SUV pulled smoothly into the circular gravel driveway of our sprawling Greenwich estate just before two in the afternoon.
I parked the Range Rover three houses down behind a thick hedge of rhododendrons, walking the remaining distance on foot.
Entering through the side service door, I found Sarah sitting at the kitchen island reviewing catering invoices for an upcoming charity gala.
“David? I thought your flight to Chicago took off hours ago,” Sarah said, looking up with a slightly startled expression.
I stared at my wife, searching her green eyes for any sign of guilt, deceit, or awareness of the monster living in her guest cottage.
“The flight was canceled due to mechanical issues, Sarah,” I replied, keeping my voice terrifyingly calm and even.
“Oh, thank goodness,” Sarah smiled, rising to wrap her arms around my neck in a warm, familiar embrace.
“Lily missed you terribly this morning; she was so upset you were leaving for two whole days.”
I forced myself to return her embrace, feeling the heavy burden of a fractured reality pressing down on my chest.
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“Where is Lily right now?” I asked quietly, pulling back just enough to look directly into her eyes.
“Evelyn took her out for ice cream to cheer her up after your abrupt departure,” Sarah answered without missing a beat.
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