Chapter 4 - The Predator's MoveThe rain had turned into a thick, heavy fog that blanketed the city of Minneapolis, turning the streets into a maze of gray shadows. It was the kind of night where secrets were buried and desperate people made desperate choices.
At 11:00 PM, my phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.
I picked it up, expecting a call from Marcus about the upcoming custody hearing. Instead, the screen displayed an unknown number.
I hesitated, then swiped to answer. "Hello?"
"Audrey."
The voice was low, raspy, and instantly recognizable. Trevor. But he didn't sound like the arrogant CEO anymore. He sounded like a man who had been drinking in the dark for hours.
"Trevor," I said, my voice turning instantly cold. "You are not supposed to be contacting me directly. All communication must go through Marcus."
"Marcus doesn't care about us, Audrey!" Trevor shouted, his voice cracking with a manic, unstable energy. "None of them do! Raymond, Beatrice... they’re just using you to get control of my shares! Don't you see that? We built that company together! We were happy once!"
"We were happy until you decided that a runway model was a better accessory for your ego, Trevor," I said, my hand tightening around the edge of the counter. "Do not call this number again."
"If you hang up, I'll go to the media!" Trevor threatened, his breathing heavy through the receiver. "I'll tell them you hid my children from me! I'll tell them you manipulated the board to steal my company! I'll destroy your reputation before you ever step foot in that boardroom as chairperson!"
"Go ahead," I said, a calm, lethal confidence settling over me. "The media already has the court filings from the custody case. They have the DNA results. They have the tax audit. If you want to put your financial ruin on the front page of every newspaper in the country, be my guest."
Before he could answer, I hung up and immediately blocked the number.
I walked into the nursery, checking on Henry and Miles. They were fast asleep, their chests rising and falling rhythmically in their cribs. The nursery monitor hummed softly on the shelf, its green light casting a peaceful glow over the room.
I walked back to my bedroom, but a strange, uneasy feeling settled in my gut. The house felt too quiet. The fog outside was too thick.
Suddenly, a soft, scraping sound came from the backyard.
I froze, my breath caught in my throat.
The sound came again—the distinct, metallic click of the sliding glass door lock being manipulated from the outside.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped drum. I didn't panic. My analytical mind, trained to handle high-pressure lab failures, instantly kicked into high gear. I grabbed my phone and dialed 911, keeping my voice to a whisper as the operator answered.
"There is an intruder at 1422 Lake Harriet Parkway," I whispered, moving quickly toward the nursery. "He is trying to enter through the back door. I have two infants in the house."
"Officers are on their way, ma'am. Stay on the line," the operator said.
I slipped into the nursery, closing the heavy oak door and locking it from the inside. I stood in front of the cribs, my hands trembling but my resolve ironclad. I picked up a heavy bronze candleholder from the dresser, my eyes fixed on the door handle.
Below, the sound of shattering glass echoed through the house.
Heavy, uneven footsteps began to ascend the stairs. They were slow, dragging, the steps of someone who was disoriented but determined.
"Audrey..." Trevor’s voice called out from the hallway, muffled by the heavy door. "Audrey, open the door. I just want to see my boys. You can't keep them from me. They're my future!"
"Trevor, the police are on their way," I yelled, my voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins. "Leave now before you destroy whatever shred of your life is left!"
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"You took my life!" Trevor roared, slamming his body against the nursery door. The wood groaned under the impact. "You took my company! You took my name! I have nothing left!"
He slammed against the door again. The lock began to splinter.
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