Chapter 5 - The Husband's Double Life
The heavy mahogany door swung open, the hinges groaning in protest, and Marcus stepped inside. He didn't say hello to his mother or sister. He didn't even look at Carol. He locked eyes with Maya, and for a second, the sheer relief in his gaze was undeniable.
He grabbed her elbow, his grip iron tight, and steered her toward the utility hallway, away from the din of the dining room. "Maya," he breathed, his voice trembling just enough to sound terrified. "I'm so sorry. I had to stall them. They... they were going to do something to you."
Maya’s heart hammered against her ribs, drowning out the clinking silverware in the other room. He’s on my side. The knot in her stomach loosened, replaced by a flutter of desperate hope. "Marcus? What is going on? Why did they—"
"Shh," he cut her off, glancing over his shoulder at the dining room where the low hum of laughter continued like a polite, mocking background track. "They don't know I’m here. I only got a chance to slip away. You need to get your coat. We are leaving. Right now."
He pushed her toward the hallway table where her coat hung, his hands shaking slightly. "Go. I’ll meet you by the car."
Maya nodded, grabbing her keys and shoving her phone into her pocket. She felt a surge of adrenaline. Her husband was the hero in this story. He was saving her from the monster family.
She turned back to him, opening her mouth to thank him, but stopped. Marcus wasn't looking at her. He was staring at her phone, which had buzzed against her hip. The screen lit up in the dim hallway, flashing the same message she had seen earlier: He's not coming. They planned this.
Marcus’s face went pale, the blood draining from his cheeks so fast he looked ghostly. He stepped closer, invading her personal space, his eyes darting frantically around the dark hallway. "Did you see that?" he whispered, his voice dropping an octave, losing the tremor of fear and finding a cold, jagged edge. "Did you read it?"
Maya blinked, confused, the adrenaline turning to ice. "It’s just a text, Marcus. I thought you were protecting me?"
Marcus didn't answer. Instead, his gaze dropped to the collar of his shirt. There, right at the top button, was a smear of crimson lipstick. It wasn't the soft, berry shade Carol wore. It was a bright, aggressive red. Fresh. Wet.
Maya’s stomach dropped, a heavy stone settling in her gut. "Where did you get that?"
Marcus looked at the stain, then back at her, and the mask of the terrified husband finally cracked. The fear vanished, replaced by a look of cold, calculating malice. He stepped back, putting distance between them, his posture straightening into something rigid and terrifying.
"You think you're the victim?" Marcus asked, his voice smooth, devoid of the warmth he had just feigned. "You think you're the one being humiliated?"
Maya opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
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"I’m not saving you, Maya," he said, his eyes locking onto hers with a terrifying intensity. "I’m using you. The family wants you out, but I need a clean break. I need a reason to sever ties that doesn't look like murder. You... you are the perfect scapegoat."
He smiled, a thin, cruel curve of his lips. "And now that you know about the text, you can't leave. Because if you tell anyone what happened tonight, I’ll make sure you’re the one who takes the fall for everything."
