After a long, grueling day at work, she was ready to relax. But as she approached her car, something unusual caught her eye: an envelope tucked under the windshield wiper. “Who leaves notes on cars anymore?” she muttered, pulling it out.
The parking lot was eerily empty. As she unfolded the note, her heart skipped a beat:
“DON’T GO HOME — IT’S A TRAP!”
Her pulse quickened. A trap? Was this some kind of sick joke? She glanced around again, but no one was in sight. She crumpled the note and tossed it onto the passenger seat, determined to brush it off. “Ridiculous,” she muttered, forcing herself to dismiss it.
But as she drove, the warning played over and over in her mind. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. What if it wasn’t a joke? A shiver crawled up her spine, but she pushed the thoughts away.
When she finally pulled into the driveway, everything seemed perfectly normal. The house was quiet, the porch light flickered gently in the evening breeze. She let out a sigh of relief.
“See? Nothing to worry about,” she whispered to herself, stepping out of the car.
But as soon as she opened the front door, her world flipped upside down. The house was a mess—cushions scattered, drawers pulled out, papers strewn across the floor.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, her heart pounding. She instinctively reached for her phone to dial 911 but froze when she heard faint voices coming from the next room.
She crept closer, her pulse thundering in her ears. Then, her mother-in-law’s familiar voice pierced through the silence.
“She’s here now. We’ve got her right where we want her.”
What was she talking about? And who was “we”?
Her blood ran cold as she peeked into the kitchen. There, sitting calmly at the table, was her husband, Mark, and his mother. Mark’s eyes met hers, and instead of surprise, he smiled.
“Finally,” he said, his tone chillingly calm. “We were wondering when you’d get here.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “Mark? What’s going on?”
Without answering, Mark casually reached for a thick stack of papers on the table and tossed them toward her.
“Divorce papers,” he said flatly. “Sign them. You’ll give me the house, and you’ll pay me half a million dollars.”
Her world spun. “What? Why would I —”
Mark’s mother stood up, arms crossed, a smug smile plastered on her face. “Oh, you’ll do it,” she said coldly. “Because if you don’t, everyone will find out who you really are.”
“What are you talking about?” she stammered, utterly confused.
Mark stepped closer, his voice now a low, menacing whisper. “You’ve said some pretty awful things about your boss, haven’t you? Called him an idiot, said he was incompetent…”
Leave a Reply