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David’s voice suddenly faltered, losing its icy composure. A genuine, palpable note of panic crept into his tone.
“What?” I demanded, gripping the phone so hard the screen began to crack. “What didn’t you plan for?”
“Lucy,” David said, his breath hitching. “She vanished two days ago. She cleaned out the joint corporate safety deposit box. But Ray… the text she sent you? About her own pregnancy test?”
“I know,” I spat out, bitter venom dripping from my words. “She’s mocking me. I know I’m sterile. I read the report. It’s a fake test to mess with my head before she takes my money.”
“No, Ray, you don’t understand,” David choked out, his voice trembling violently now. “It’s not a fake test. She sent me the same photo this morning. She is pregnant. And Ray… I haven’t touched Lucy in three years. If you’re sterile, and I’m not the father…”
Suddenly, the front door of my house downstairs clicked open.
The heavy, rhythmic sound of deliberate footsteps echoed through the silent first floor. They were heavy footsteps. A man’s boots.
From the hallway downstairs, a voice boomed—a voice I recognized instantly, a voice that made the blood in my veins completely freeze. It was the voice of the one person who knew every single detail of my finances, my marriage, and my assets. The one person who had access to everything.
“Raymond?” the voice called out from the dark bottom of the stairs. “Are you home? Lucy told me you’d be here.”
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I looked down at the documents in my hand, then at the cracked phone screen where David was still frantically shouting my name, and finally toward the bedroom door as the footsteps began to slowly, steadily climb the stairs.