The phone slipped from my fingers.
Not because I meant to drop it…
but because my body forgot how to hold things.
The sound of Nancy's scream was still alive in my ears, stretched thin like a wire pulled too tight. A sound that didn't belong to the living. A sound that ended too suddenly, cut off by chaos, by movement, by people rushing toward something already broken.
Silence followed.
The kind of silence that isn't quiet,
the kind that presses down on your chest and refuses to let you breathe.
Amanda and I stood there, frozen, staring at nothing. At everything. At the space where answers should have been.
"She was… on the phone with us," Amanda whispered, her voice hollow. "She was right there."
I couldn't respond. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My mind kept replaying the last thing Nancy had said, brace yourself, over and over again, like a warning that arrived a second too late.
They didn't hesitate.
They never hesitate.
I had known the enemy was close. I had felt it in the walls, in Brittany's eyes, in the way this house never truly slept. But this, this speed, this precision, it meant something worse.
They were watching us in real time.
My hand moved to my stomach instinctively, fingers pressing lightly as if I could shield what was inside me from a danger I couldn't see.
Damien.
The thought hit me like a blow.
My husband was in prison. Trapped. Exposed. And Nancy, who had just been with him, was now gone.
"Oh God," I breathed, panic clawing its way up my throat. "Damien."
I turned and ran.
Amanda shouted my name behind me, but I was already moving, my feet barely touching the ground as I rushed out of the house. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the keys, but Amanda was faster, she grabbed them from me, her face pale but determined.
"I'm driving," she said firmly. "You're not in a state."
I didn't argue.
The car ride to the prison blurred into fragments, red lights ignored, sharp turns, Amanda's knuckles white against the steering wheel. My thoughts spiraled, each one darker than the last.
What if they had already reached him?
What if Nancy's death was a message?
What if I was too late?
By the time we reached the prison gates, my chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.
They stopped us before we could even step inside.
"Visiting hours are over," one of the guards said flatly.
"No," I said, my voice breaking. "Please. I need to see my husband. Something has happened."
"I'm sorry, ma'am,"
"I'm pregnant!" The words tore out of me. "And my husband is in danger. Please. I just need to see him. Just for a minute."
I didn't care how desperate I sounded. I was desperate.
I was crying openly now, my body shaking, my heart pounding so violently I thought I might collapse right there on the concrete floor. Amanda stood beside me, trying to steady me, but fear had already taken hold.
Another guard approached, Dora.
Her eyes softened when she looked at me. They lingered on my stomach, on my trembling hands, on my tear-streaked face.
"Just a minute," she said quietly.
I don't know what she saw in me, fear, truth, or simply a woman on the edge, but she turned and disappeared down the corridor.
When Damien walked into the visitation room, alive, breathing, standing, my knees nearly gave out.
I rushed to him, throwing my arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest like everything I'd been holding back finally broke free.
"I can't do this anymore," I cried. "I'm so tired. I just want everything to stop. I want to rewind time. I want my life back."
Damien held me tightly, confused but gentle, whispering my name over and over as if it could ground me.
"I shouldn't have moved here," I continued, my words tumbling out. "We should have stayed where we were. We were safe. We were happy. Everything is ruined."
He didn't understand. Not yet.
And maybe that was mercy.
The guard's voice cut through the moment. "Time's up."
Amanda stepped forward, pulling me gently away. I resisted at first, clinging to Damien as if letting go meant losing him forever.
Before we left, Amanda leaned toward him, her voice low but urgent.
"There's a chance Nancy is dead."
Damien stiffened.
"What?" he asked sharply.
"She was on the phone with us," Amanda continued. "She said she was going to retrieve a document. Then… we heard a scream. A car. And nothing after that."
His face drained of color.
The guards didn't give us time for more. We were ushered out, the doors closing behind us with a finality that made my stomach twist.
The drive home was silent.
Back at the mansion, the weight of everything crashed down on us at once. We sat in the living room, unmoving, replaying the same thoughts, the same fears.
And then,
A ringing sound.
Sharp. Persistent.
Amanda checked her phone. "Not mine."
I checked mine. Nothing.
The landline was silent too.
The ringing continued.
We stood up at the same time, our eyes meeting. Slowly, we followed the sound, room by room, our steps cautious.
It led us upstairs.
To her room.
Brittany's room.
The sound came from the locker.
My heart pounded as Amanda opened it.
Inside was a burner phone.
An old one.
It was vibrating violently in her hand.
The number on the screen made Amanda freeze.
"My sister's number," she whispered.
She answered immediately.
"Hello?" she shouted. "Who is this?"
Silence.
"Who the hell is holding my sister's phone?" Amanda screamed, her voice cracking with rage and grief. "What did you do to her? What did you do to my brother-in-law?"
Nothing.
The line went dead.
Amanda tried calling back. Straight to voicemail.
She screamed, throwing the phone against the wall, sobbing uncontrollably as I rushed to hold her.
And then,
The doorbell rang.
When I opened the door, Linda stood there with another officer beside her.
Her face was professional. Controlled.
"We're here to inform you," she said, "that your maid, Brittany, was involved in a hit-and-run accident earlier today."
I stared at her.
"She didn't survive."
Something inside me snapped.
"How long," I asked quietly, "are you people going to keep doing this?"
Linda blinked. "Mrs. White,"
"I'm pregnant," I said sharply, stepping closer. "And if anything happens to me, to my baby, or to my husband, if anyone else dies, I will expose everything about Dynamic Estate."
Her colleague tried to intervene, but Linda looked shaken.
I leaned closer and whispered, "You know exactly what's going on. And you know you're not safe either."
Fear flashed across her face, real fear.
I stepped back and slammed the door shut.
The house fell silent again.
And for the first time, I understood the truth completely,
The proof was gone.
The witness was dead.
And the game had only just begun.