Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN ON THE OTHER END
Lena screamed.
Ethan’s fingers clawed toward the lock through the broken wood.
“LENA!”
The woman on the phone stayed calm.
“Move away from the door.”
Lena dragged herself toward the bathtub.
“Can you get inside the tub?”
“Yes.”
“Do it.”
She climbed awkwardly, nearly fainting when her arm shifted.
Ethan hit the door again.
The frame gave another inch.
“Police are three minutes away,” the woman said.
Lena whispered, “He’ll say I did something.”
“What did you do?”
“I scratched him.”
“When?”
“When he grabbed me.”
“Okay.”
“He’ll say I’m crazy.”
“Okay.”
“He has recordings.”
The woman paused.
“Lena, none of that changes what is happening right now.”
Sirens sounded outside.
Ethan stopped hitting the door.
Silence.
Then his footsteps moved away.
The woman said, “Stay where you are.”
Lena heard the front door.
Male voices.
Ethan saying something quickly.
Then:
“My wife fell.”
Lena almost laughed.
Of course.
Ethan stood in the hallway with a scratch across his cheek.
“I was trying to stop her from hurting herself,” he told the officer.
Lena looked at him.
He looked sober now.
That fast.
While Lena waited for imaging, the woman from Blackline arrived.
Claire Voss.
The woman from the fundraiser.
Lena stared.
“You.”
Claire pulled a chair beside the bed.
“You called.”
“I thought that number was some kind of shelter.”
“It’s a network.”
“What kind?”
“Legal. Medical documentation. Emergency housing. Financial protection.”
Lena looked away.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
Then Claire asked:
“Do you want to go home after discharge?”
Lena’s answer came immediately.
“No.”
It was the easiest no she had said in years.
Claire nodded.
“Then we start there.”
Across the city, Ethan was already starting somewhere else.
At 2:07 a.m., he called Marcus Dale.
Corporate attorney. Friend. Business partner.
By 2:30, Marcus had photographed Ethan’s scratch.
By 3:00, Ethan had given a statement that Lena had been “emotionally
unstable” over her mother’s health and attacked him after drinking.
By 4:15, Marcus had drafted a petition for temporary access to joint
accounts.
At 6:40, Ethan changed the passwords.
Lena learned that at eight.
Her cards stopped working.
Her banking app logged out.
Her email recovery number changed.
Claire looked at Lena’s phone.
“He moved quickly.”
Lena felt cold.
“He always does.”
“Good.”
Lena stared.
“Good?”
Claire’s expression hardened.
May you like
“Fast mistakes leave timestamps.”
And Ethan had just started building the evidence against himself.
