Chapter 3 - The Door Opens
The music stopped abruptly inside the townhouse. Footsteps tapped lightly against hardwood floors, and the sound of a deadbolt sliding back echoed through the silence of the porch.
The door swung open, revealing a striking woman in her early thirties wearing a silk robe, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She looked at me with polite curiosity, which instantly morphed into absolute, blood-drained terror as her eyes locked onto mine.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice tight and breathless.
“You must be Vanessa,” I said, my voice eerily calm, cutting through the space between us like a razor.
Vanessa’s hand flew to her throat, her fingers gripping the fabric of her collar. She tried to step back, but I planted my foot firmly across the threshold, preventing her from closing the door.
From down the hallway, Mark’s voice called out lazily, completely unaware of who was standing at the entrance. “Babe, did the wine delivery get here?”
Mark stepped around the corner into the foyer, wearing a comfortable cashmere sweater and holding a wine glass by the stem. The color drained from his face so fast he looked like a corpse under UV light. The wine glass slipped from his fingers, shattering against the hardwood floor with a sharp, explosive crash, dark red liquid splashing across his bare feet.
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“Em... Emily?” Mark stammered, his eyes bulging as he stared at me. “What... what are you doing here? I thought you were at the hospital!”
“I was at the hospital, Mark,” I said, stepping past Vanessa into the foyer and closing the door gently behind me. “Then I came here. And honestly, looking at you right now, your miraculous recovery is nothing short of inspirational.”
