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Richard stepped inside.

I froze with the suitcase handle slick in my palm. My mouth went dry as he closed the door behind him.

He looked at the suitcase, then at me. “Going somewhere?”

“I thought you were working.”

“I forgot something.”

The question in his eyes told me he hadn’t forgotten anything.

I forced my chin up. “I need some space. Just for tonight. Things have been… off lately. I’ll be back tomorrow. We can talk then.”

“Space,” he repeated. A slow smile crept across his face. “You’ve been needing space a lot lately, Sam. What exactly is the problem?”

My pulse thundered. I took a shaky step backward, but the suitcase wheels caught on the rug and I nearly tripped. “Don’t do this. Not tonight. It’s Seth’s birthday. I need some air so I can clear my head.”

He took one step closer. “Clear your head about what? About us? About the way you’ve been looking at me as if I’m a stranger in my own house?” His voice dropped, deceptively gentle. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you flinch when I touch you? Tell me, Samantha. What exactly is the problem?”

Tears stung my eyes. Every instinct urged me toward the door, but my legs felt bolted to the floor. The words I had swallowed for years rose all at once, choking me. I couldn’t stop them anymore.

“I know what you are,” I said, my voice cracking before gaining strength. “I know you were with Jessica the night she disappeared. Marcy knew you did something to her. Jerry’s sudden disappearance. Your secretary didn’t suddenly quit. You killed her too. I followed you to that warehouse last week, and I saw what you did to that woman.”

Richard stood completely still and listened without denying any of it. His head remained slightly tilted, and fascination brightened his eyes. He studied me as if I were a specimen he was finally seeing clearly for the first time.

“You know what I am,” he echoed softly, turning the words over as if they amused him. “That’s quite an accusation, Sam. You’ve been piecing together quite the story.”

“Stop it!” I snapped, my voice rising. “I saw the blood. I watched you cutting her apart. Don’t stand there and tell me I imagined it. I know what I saw!”

He stepped close enough for me to smell his aftershave, the same one I used to love. Now it turned my stomach. “And what are you going to do about it? Tell someone? Who exactly do you think is going to believe you?”

My breath hitched. I pressed on, my voice fracturing. “I’ll get help for both of us. You need it, Richard. Whatever this is inside you, we can fix it. The boys need their father. I…” My voice broke. “I know you can be better if you get help.”

His hand shot out and gripped my arm. The pressure carried a warning without leaving a bruise. “You think you can fix me? You think you can walk out that door and I’ll let you take my kids?”

I yanked my arm free from his grasp, my chest heaving as the words burst out of me. “ They’re kids, Richard. You don’t own them, and I won’t let you turn them into whatever you are.”

The accusation left me shaking. As I faced him, my mind raced backward through the years, clawing through the grief and denial I had never allowed myself to examine.

I had always felt in my gut that my father would never commit suicide. He had been proud and stubborn, and he refused to surrender when life became difficult. Then Richard married me so quickly after the funeral, sweeping me into this life before the dirt had settled on the grave and before I could draw a full breath.

His rush to marry me had never felt right. Neither had his insistence that I accept my father’s death without questioning it. Everything I had ignored finally came together, and the shock stole the air from my lungs.

My father had never killed himself.

Richard killed him.

Grief and rage flooded my mind, burning through my veins like acid. My pulse pounded in my ears. My hands shook so hard I could barely keep them at my sides.

I forced myself to meet his gaze, my entire body trembling so violently that I could barely remain upright.

“Did my father really kill himself, Richard? Or was that you too?”

A cold smile crossed his face before he concealed it, but I had already seen enough.

I broke.

“No… no, no. Oh my God, what did you do? How could you? You bastard!”