Chapter 53: The Fall

The key was a cold brand against my palm. I kept my thighs pressed together, feeling the metal ring bite into my skin through the silk of my dress as Mark stomped toward the kitchen sink.

"It was an accident," I sobbed, the sound wet and frantic. I leaned into the table, letting my hair fall forward to hide the predatory focus in my eyes. "Mark, please don't be angry. My hand just... it went numb."

"Forget it, Mark," Chloe snapped. She threw a dish towel at him, her gaze never leaving me. She didn't see a grieving wife; she saw a glitch in her perfect machinery. "She’s a mess. Look at her. We need to sign the papers now before she collapses and we have to call Thorne back for another sedative."

"I can sign," I choked out, forcing my body to sway. "Just... let me sit for a second. The room is spinning."

"Take her upstairs," Chloe ordered Mark.

Mark turned from the sink, his face a mask of cold resentment. He didn't even look at me as he gripped my elbow, hauling me upward. I let my legs go slack, a dead weight against his side. I needed him distracted. I needed them to believe the "blank slate" was finally breaking.

As we moved toward the stairs, I intentionally caught my foot on the rug.

It wasn't a trip; it was a dive.

I went down hard, my knees hitting the hardwood with a sickening *crack*. I let out a genuine scream of pain that echoed off the glass walls. The wine glass I was still clutching shattered against the floor, sending shards of crystal skittering across the polished wood.

"Elara!" Mark yelled, reaching for me.

"Don't touch me!" I shrieked, pulling away, scrambling on all fours toward the shadows beneath the staircase. "Everything is breaking! Why is everything breaking?"

"She’s hysterical," Chloe hissed, rushing over. "Get her up, Mark!"

They both lunged for me, but I was already deeper in the alcove, huddled against the wall right next to the recessed basement panel. I used the back of my hand to smear the spilled wine across my face, looking every bit the psychotic wreck they wanted me to be.

"I can't breathe," I gasped, my hand fumbling behind my back.

Chloe reached down to grab my hair, to force my head up. "Enough of this drama. You’re going back to that room—"

"Wait," I whimpered, shrinking into the corner. "The baby... I hear Lily."

They both paused, instinctively glancing toward the ceiling, toward the nursery. That one-second window was all I needed.

I slipped the silver skeleton key into the lock of the basement door. My fingers were slick with sweat and Cabernet, but the metal found the groove. I didn't turn it yet. I just kept my hand over the plate, shielding it with the hem of my skirt as I let out another jagged, broken sob.

"I'll carry her," Mark said, his voice dropping into that terrifyingly calm tone. "Chloe, clear the glass. We’re doing this in the bedroom."

He scooped me up. I went limp in his arms, the key still hidden in my fist. As he turned to carry me up the fourteen steps to my cage, I felt the slight vibration of the basement door shifting behind us.

The lock clicked. Silent. Open.