Chloe didn’t blink. She had known. Her father, Richard, had spent the last three years of his life in a fog of opioids and guilt. In the end, he had given everything to Irene — not out of love, Chloe suspected, but out of fear.
But she did not throw the key away. The next morning, Irene found a note slipped under the front door.
“I’d rather stay in the guest house,” Chloe replied.
Chloe shook her head. “That’s not — he was sick, but he never —” PureTaboo - Aaliyah Love- Kristen Scott -The In...
“Your father,” the lawyer had said gently, “left the lake house to Irene. And to Chloe… a monthly trust, accessible after she turns twenty-five, or upon Irene’s written consent.”
That night, while Irene attended a gallery opening in the city, Chloe let herself into the main house. The key turned smoothly. The door opened onto a stairwell that smelled of cedar and something sweeter — vanilla, maybe, or decay.
Chloe’s hands trembled. She heard footsteps above. Chloe didn’t blink
“Why did you marry him?” Chloe finally asked. “If he was a monster?”
“He never touched you?” Irene laughed, a dry, brittle sound. “No. Because I made sure he couldn’t. The night he tried to come into your room, I locked him in the basement. Not this one. The other one. The real one.” She paused. “He was down there for three days before I let him out. He never looked at you again.”
Chloe had not slept in the east bedroom since she was seventeen — since the night she heard the floorboards creak outside her door and saw Irene’s silhouette pause, then continue down the hall. In the end, he had given everything to
“First time she called me Mom.” “Night she tried to run away.” “The day she stopped laughing.”
Chloe’s breath came in short gasps. “You’re insane.”