Chapter 3: The Ring of Retribution
David’s fingers brushed against something hard and cold in the debris. He pulled it out, his breath hitching in his throat. It was a hand—or at least, the skeletal remains of one, preserved in the dry, airless environment beneath the floor. But it was the finger that held him frozen. Wrapped around the skeletal ring finger was a gold band, encrusted with a distinctive, custom-cut sapphire.
David’s entire world tilted. He reached into his pocket, his hand shaking, and pulled out his own set of keys, but his eyes darted to Sarah’s left hand. It was bare. She hadn't worn her wedding ring in weeks, claiming she had sent it out for resizing. "Why..." David started, his voice a whisper of absolute, bone-chilling terror. "Why is it wearing your exact wedding ring...?"
The air in the hallway seemed to vanish. Sarah stood paralyzed, the mask of the perfect suburban mother finally slipping to reveal the jagged, desperate woman underneath. She had thought the secret was buried, entombed beneath the very home where she played the role of a doting wife. She had relied on the structure of the house, the permanence of the floor, to hide the cost of her past. But David had opened the door, and the light was now pouring into the dark places she had spent years cementing over.
