Chapter 6 - The Knock At The Door

Ethan 

“Why did you give me the wrong information? Huh?”

I shouted into the phone until my throat burned.

“But sir, that’s what I saw,” my assistant replied timidly on the other end.

“She wasn’t the one! And now I have to face the consequences of your neglect. Do I pay you to keep an eye on her for nothing?”

Before he could answer, I hung up and threw the phone onto the couch. Frustration burned through every part of me. Everything had been falling into place until now. I had been waiting for one tiny mistake from Sienna—just one—so I could strip her of everything she had and leave her with nothing in the divorce. But if the devil worked hard, Sienna was working harder. I couldn’t find a single piece of usable dirt on her. No late nights. No suspicious calls. No secret meetings. Nothing.

She had left me downstairs in the sitting room after our argument, anger still clear in the way she walked away. Now I had to go upstairs and fix it before the night got worse. I forced the usual smile onto my face and headed up, rehearsing the soft tone that had always worked on her.

She stood in front of the mirror applying her night routine. Surprisingly, her face showed none of the hurt I expected—no swollen eyes, no broken expression. That unsettled me more than I wanted to admit. For a moment I wondered if she was getting stronger, harder to control. I swallowed, half afraid and half confident she would forgive me the way she always did.

I walked up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, resting my chin on her shoulder as I looked at our reflection in the mirror.

“Honey, I’m sorry I reacted like that. It wasn’t intentional.” I paused, making sure she was watching us. She didn’t stop applying her cream. “A man like me, with a beautiful wife… who wouldn’t get worked up if someone told him his wife was seen with another man? I’m sorry. I love you so much.”

I used the soft, pouty voice that had always gotten me out of trouble before. The same voice I had used after late nights, after strange perfume on my clothes, after every small slip.

She finally stopped and turned to face me. Her eyes held that familiar kindness I knew how to use.

“Ethan, I’m not mad at you,” she said quietly. “But if we don’t have trust, we have nothing. Don’t ever do this again, okay?”

I nodded, letting my eyes glisten just enough to look sincere.

“You’re not going to apologize with just words, are you?” she asked.

“Oh no, I’m not. Let me make it up to you.”

I cupped her face and kissed her slowly, the way she liked—gentle, lingering, full of false tenderness. When I pulled back, I smiled.

“I love you, honey. Let me be right back. I should start acting seriously as a career man again.”

I headed downstairs, already thinking of something small to do for her. I may never have been faithful or truly in love with her, but at least I was creative when I needed to be. A tray of fruit, a soft word, a warm drink—little things that always made her melt.

Just as I opened the fridge, my phone lit up with a message.

I’m coming to your house in 20 minutes. I want to see you. You either come out or I will enter myself and tell her everything.

Panic shot through me so fast my hands went cold. I knew Vanessa. When she said something, she meant it. I wasn’t about to argue with the woman who actually held my heart—especially not while she was carrying my child. If she walked into this house tonight, everything would collapse.

I cut the fruits quickly, arranged them on a tray with a glass of juice, and carried it upstairs. Sienna was already lying on the bed, comfortable, reading a book. She looked peaceful. Trusting. Easy.

“Here you go, my love.”

She smiled as she took the tray.

“I don’t think anybody knows me like you do.”

“But wait,” she added, “the doctors told me to first take warm water alongside anything I eat. Can you please bring some for me, honey?”

“Sure, babe. In a second.”

I rushed downstairs, heart pounding, hoping the plan would work the way it always had. I prepared the warm water carefully, the same way I had done many times before. When I returned, she already looked slightly dizzy.

“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked, keeping my voice soft and concerned.

“I’m sleepy and tired. Can you put this away for me?”

She had eaten half of the fruit. I watched as she lay back against the pillows. Within moments her breathing evened out and a light snore escaped her.

“Honey?” I called quietly.

No response.

I stood there for a second, staring down at her peaceful face. The same face that had looked at me with trust for five years.

“Good riddance,” I muttered under my breath.

I switched off the bedside lamp, grabbed my jacket from the chair, and headed downstairs. All five years of our marriage, those sleeping pills had never once failed me. Not even once. They had bought me nights with Vanessa, secret celebrations, quiet freedom. Tonight they would buy me time again.

I had just reached the bottom of the stairs when a hard knock sounded at the front door. My pulse jumped hard against my throat. Had Vanessa arrived already? Was she impatient enough to come early?

“Vanessa, you—”

The words died on my tongue the moment I opened the door.

It wasn’t Vanessa.

Two police officers stood on the porch. Their expressions were serious, almost grim. The flashing light from their car painted the front of the house in short bursts of blue and red.

One of them looked directly at me.

“Mr. Ethan Carter?”

My stomach dropped.

Something had gone very wrong.