Chapter 6 - THE RETALIATION
Daniel didn't go home after being suspended from work; instead, he drove straight to my father’s house. He must have tracked my location through the family sharing app on our iCloud account—something he had insisted we install “for safety reasons.”
We heard the roar of his BMW engine screaming into the driveway, followed by tires spitting gravel.
Dad stood up instantly from the kitchen table, walking calmly toward the front hall coat rack where his heavy leather jacket hung. “Stay here, Claire.”
“No, Dad,” I said, standing up right behind him. “This isn't just your fight. It’s mine.”
Before Dad could answer, violent, thunderous pounding rattled the front door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Claire! Open this damn door right now!” Daniel’s voice roared through the heavy oak, stripped of all its corporate polish. “I know you’re in there! You think you can destroy my life with your police officer daddy? Open the door or I’ll kick it in!”
Dad unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door wide open with a sudden, fluid motion.
Daniel, who had been winding up for another kick, stumbled forward off balance, catching himself on the doorframe. His eyes were bloodshot, his tie was ripped off, and his expensive suit jacket was wrinkled.
“Mr. Mercer,” Dad said in a low, rumbling voice that commanded instant authority. “You are currently violating a court-ordered restraining order by being within five hundred feet of this property. Turn around and walk back to your car, or I will personally assist the sheriff in locking you in a cell.”
Daniel sneered, his gaze darting past my father to fix on me standing in the hallway.
“You think you’re smart, don't you, Claire?” Daniel hissed, pointing a trembling finger at me. “You’re a paranoid, hysterical little girl playing games! You’re going to crawl back to me on your knees when you realize you have zero money, zero support, and no one will ever believe a word you say!”
I stepped out from behind my father, looking at Daniel not with fear, but with absolute pity.
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Daniel,” I said quietly. “And I’m definitely not your wife. The sheriff’s deputies are already on their way back here. I suggest you run.”
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As if on cue, the distant wail of sirens began echoing up the quiet suburban street.
Daniel’s face turned white with blind panic. He glared at me with pure venom, spat on the driveway, and scrambled back to his car, peeling out with tires screeching into the twilight.
