Chapter 5 - The Hunter’s Trap
Victoria’s gaze remained glued to the red folio on the cake-smeared table. The gold lettering gleamed beneath the crystal chandelier: *“IN RE: THE ESTATE OF CLARA VANCE — EMERGENCY PETITION FOR TERMINATION OF MARITAL RIGHTS & RESTRAINING ORDER.”*
“David,” Victoria began, forcing her trademark silky tone back into her voice, though her lower lip betrayed a faint tremble. “David, sweetheart, thank God you’re home. You don’t understand what happened. Emma was throwing an absolute fit—she grabbed the tier, she tried to throw it at Chloe, and I was just trying to catch it—it was an accident—”
“Shut your mouth,” David said.
The silence in the room grew so absolute that the hum of the sub-zero refrigerator sounded deafening. David did not look at Victoria. He bent down, dropped to one knee, and pulled a clean, embroidered linen handkerchief from his coat pocket.
With infinite gentleness, he began wiping the thick pink frosting from Emma’s eyes.
“Daddy’s here, baby,” he whispered, his voice cracking with an agonizing mixture of fury and tenderness. “Daddy’s right here. You’re safe.”
Emma blinked through the sticky residue. The moment her father’s thumb grazed her scratched cheek, the dam inside her finally collapsed. A dry, shuddering sob escaped her chest, followed by a torrent of silent, desperate tears. She threw her little arms around his neck, burying her cake-covered face into his wool coat, ruining his thousand-dollar suit with sugar and dairy.
David didn't care. He held her tight, his hand supporting the back of her head, feeling the wild, rabbit-like thumping of her little heart.
He stood up, holding Emma against his chest with his left arm. He turned his eyes toward the gathered guests.
“Get out,” David said calmly.
Nobody argued. Nobody asked for their coats. Parents grabbed their children’s hands and scrambled toward the foyer like survivors escaping a sinking ship. Chloe stood frozen by the dessert table, her eyes wide with sudden terror as she realized her mother was completely powerless.
Within ninety seconds, the only people left in the vast room were David, Emma, Victoria, and Chloe.
“David, please,” Victoria stammered, stepping toward him, her hands raised in supplication. “You’re overreacting! You’ve been traveling, you’re stressed, you don’t know what I’ve been dealing with while you were gone!”
May you like
David reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black metallic remote. He pointed it at the eighty-five-inch television mounted on the stone fireplace and pressed a button.
---
