“Careful,” she said. “You don’t want another tragedy tonight.”
The hallway light behind her painted her face in gold, almost angelic. That was the horror of her. She did not look like evil. She looked like a woman who remembered birthdays, sent thank-you notes, and volunteered in pediatric wards.
“What did you do to my son?” I asked.
Her smile faded.
“Your son was not supposed to die quickly.”
The words moved through me like a blade.
I stood.
Every part of me shook.
Vanessa tilted her head. “William Sterling needed time to suffer. A slow decline. Doctors confused. You desperate. Garrett absent. I wanted your father to watch helplessly.”
I gripped the bat tighter.
“But Ethan fought too hard,” she continued softly. “Poor thing. His heart couldn’t bear it.”
I lunged.
She moved faster than I expected, stepping aside as the bat struck the doorframe with a crack. Pain shot up my arms.
Vanessa seized my wrist.
“Your father destroyed my family,” she hissed. “My father put a gun in his mouth after William exposed him.”
“Your father committed crimes.”
“My father made one mistake.”
“You murdered a child.”
Her face twisted.
For the first time, the mask slipped.
“He was collateral.”
I drove my knee into her stomach.
She gasped and stumbled back.
I ran.
Not toward the front door.
Toward the kitchen.
My phone sat charging on the counter, connected to an open call.
My father’s voice roared through the speaker.
“Claire!”
Vanessa froze.
I had called him the second I heard the hallway click.
Her eyes widened.
Blue and red lights flashed across the windows.
Detective Klein’s voice thundered from outside. “Vanessa Hale! Step away from Claire Vale!”
Vanessa turned slowly toward me.
For a heartbeat, I saw not a mastermind, not a ghost from my father’s past, but a woman whose own grief had rotted into poison.
“You think this ends with me?” she whispered.
