“We knowexactlywho you are, Lord Linchford.” I smile at him, the last smile he’ll ever see, before slamming my fist hard into his face.
GRACE
Idon’t know if it’s normal for a mother to just sit and stare at her baby, but that’s all I seem to do since my perfect little boy arrived. I stroke his hand as he sleeps in his Moses basket, beside me on the sofa, completely overwhelmed by the love I feel for him. I can’t believe there was ever a time when I considered not being a part of his life. I can’t help but think about Polly, and how hard it must have been for her to give away her baby.
Cecelia startles me when she rushes into the room, her eyes wide and skittish, and her skin deathly pale.
“Gracie, pick up the baby. We have to leave,” she whispers, looking back over her shoulder as if there's some kind of threat.
“What are you talking about?” I stand protectively in front of my son. I’ve never trusted this woman, and I don’t intend to start now.
“There's someone in the house. They have a gun. Get your son and come with me,” she whispers louder in frustration.
“I’m not going anywhere with you.” The first sign of Jack leaving us, and this bitch is already playing her manipulative games.
“For goodness sake, girl. Pick up your baby and come on. I’m trying to help you.” She narrows her eyes at me fiercely.
“First of all, I’m not a girl. I’m a woman. And secondly, why on this earth would I trust you?”
I look past her when a scream comes from the kitchen, and when it’s followed by a loud gunshot, Cecelia raises one of her drawn-on eyebrows cleverly. Having to make a split-second decision, I pick up Benjamin and decide I have to trust her.
“Where can we go?” I ask, clutching him to my chest and rocking him. The gunshot startled him awake, and the fact that he’s crying isn’t helping at all.
“You need to shut him up.” Cecelia kicks off her heels and takes my hand, dragging me into the hall while cautiously looking towards the opposite corridor that leads to the kitchen.
“Library,” she whispers, guiding me towards it while I somehow manage to settle Benjamin down. Once we’re inside, she quickly grabs a chair, resting it back on two legs under the handle to jam the door.
“We’re not safe here; anyone could get through that eventually,” I tell her, searching around for another option. I curse myself for being so blindsided that I left my phone in the living room. “We need to call Jack. We need to call the police.” I keep rocking Benjamin, praying that he remains silent, but my heart is beating so fast, he’s bound to pick up on my fear.
“Who would want to hurt us?” I ask, trying to remind myself that Jonah is dead.
It can’t be him. Jack killed him.
“I don’t know; we can try and figure that out when we’re safe,” she tells me, counting the books on the shelf before pulling one out.
“Cecelia, now is not the time for reading,” I growl, wondering if this woman is fucking crazy.
She smirks at me when a loud pop comes from the bookshelf, and it opens up like a door.
“It’s called a panic room. Thankfully, we have three of them,” she explains, grabbing my elbow and urging me to get inside.
“Wait.” I stand firm, despite the threat that's on the other side of the door. “How do I know you aren’t going to hurt us?” Cecelia has been so cruel and hateful towards me since I arrived. This could easily be a trap.
“Oh, come on, Gracie. I may not like you, but I certainly don’t wish for you or your baby to be dead. Get inside.” She rolls her eyes impatiently, and when Benjamin starts getting upset again, I slyly pick up the letter opener from the desk beside me. Tucking it in my back pocket, just for precaution, I do as she suggests; heading inside the panic room and hoping I’m making the right decision. Cecelia waits until I’m standing in the corner before heaving the door shut and trapping us in the white-walled empty room.
“Can’t you shut him up?” She looks at my son with her lip curled as she stands with her shoulders against the wall and her arms folded.
“He’s a baby,” I remind her, on edge and fucking scared. I take out my breast and give him what I know will calm him down, just so I can try and think straight.
“Who is that person, and why do they want to hurt us?” I have a sense that Cecelia knows more about this.
“I don’t know who it is. I just saw a masked man enter the house through the pantry holding a gun.” She sighs.
“You really don’t miss anything, do you?” I have no idea how this woman manages to have eyes all over the house.
“Well, in this case, dear, it’s a good job I don’t. You can thank me for saving your life when we get out of here.”
“And what if they don’t leave? What if they find a way to get in here or…or set fire to the house?” My head is swirling with scenarios as I hold my son tighter, stroking his little head and praying it doesn't come to that.
