Chapter 1 - THE COUCH
Mara knew something was wrong with the wine before she knew what.
The taste was normal.
The room was not.
Ryan Holloway’s family home had always felt too formal to Mara. Dark wood. Pale rugs. Portraits of men who looked disappointed in anyone born after 1950.
Conrad Holloway sat across the room reading something on his tablet.
Ryan poured another glass.
“You barely touched it.”
Mara looked at him.
“I’m tired.”
“You’re always tired lately.”
That sounded casual.
Too casual.
She drank half a mouthful.
Within minutes, warmth spread strangely through her arms.
Her eyelids became heavy.
Her heartbeat felt slower.
Mara put the glass down.
“Ryan…”
He was watching her.
Not worried.
Watching.
She understood before she could prove anything.
So she made a decision.
She let herself fall sideways onto the couch.
Ryan came closer.
“Mara?”
She did not answer.
Her phone was already recording beneath the cushion.
She had turned it on after hearing Conrad whisper earlier:
“If she refuses again tonight, we stop asking.”
She did not know what that meant.
Now she was about to.
Ryan touched her shoulder.
No response.
Then:
“Quick. Before she wakes up.”
Mara’s blood turned cold.
He pulled open several buttons of her blouse.
CLICK.
CLICK.
CLICK.
Camera shutter.
Conrad stood.
“Get her face too.”
Ryan moved her arm.
“This is enough.”
Conrad grabbed his wrist.
“No. We need enough to make her sign.”
Ryan whispered:
“And if she refuses?”
“Then she loses everything.”
Mara’s fingers tightened under the cushion.
Her closed eyes twitched.
Ryan noticed.
“Wait…”
He leaned inches from her face.
Mara held her breath.
“Mara?”
He touched her cheek.
Conrad snapped:
“Stop wasting time.”
Ryan turned away.
Mara opened her eyes.
Her hand shot under the cushion.
She grabbed the phone.
The red recording timer was still running.
“I got you,” she whispered.
Ryan froze.
“What did you say?”
Mara jumped up.
Ran.
“MARA!”
She hit the hallway at full speed.
Ryan and Conrad chased.
“STOP! GIVE ME THE PHONE!”
The front door was twenty feet away.
Mara reached it.
Pulled.
Locked.
Behind her, Ryan was almost there.
She slammed the deadbolt switch, yanked the door open, and ran into the night.
Ryan grabbed the back of her blouse.
Fabric tore.
Mara twisted free.
She made it to the driveway.
Then saw the gate.
May you like
Closed.
And Conrad’s security system was already locking it.
