Chapter 1 - The Closet Door I Opened Too Late
Adrian Mercer wasn’t supposed to be home until after dark.
His work trip had ended early when a client canceled a final meeting, and by the time he pulled into the driveway of his modern white home, afternoon daylight was still streaming through the front windows.
He was tired.
Hungry.
And thinking about Milo.
His eight-year-old son usually heard his car before the front door opened.
Sometimes Milo ran out carrying a drawing.
Sometimes a school paper.
Most often, he appeared clutching the same small brown teddy bear he had owned for years.
That afternoon, nobody came.
Adrian rolled his black suitcase through the open front door.
The wheels clicked once against the glossy white floor.
Then stopped.
Bianca was standing beside the hallway closet.
Tall.
Black dress.
Long black hair.
One hand still near the closed door.
Adrian immediately sensed something wrong.
“WHERE IS MY SON?!”
Bianca turned.
Too quickly.
“Adrian—”
He strode toward her.
The suitcase remained standing by the entrance.
“Where is Milo?”
Bianca did not answer immediately.
And that hesitation told him everything.
Only seconds earlier, Milo had been standing directly in front of the same open closet, clutching his teddy bear tightly against his chest.
Bianca had placed both hands against his upper back.
Then shoved him.
Hard.
One sharp movement.
Milo stumbled into the closet and caught himself against the interior wall, never releasing the bear.
“GET IN THERE,” Bianca had snapped. “I’M SICK OF YOU.”
Then she slammed the door.
No second shove.
No injury.
Just darkness.
And fear.
Now Adrian stood directly in front of her.
He looked at the closet.
Then at Bianca.
“Open it.”
She crossed her arms.
“He needs to calm down.”
“Open. The. Door.”
“He was throwing another tantrum.”
Adrian’s face changed.
He stepped forward and delivered one hard slap across Bianca’s face.
She dropped backward onto the floor, stunned.
He immediately turned away from her.
No second strike.
No pursuit.
He grabbed the closet handle and yanked the door open.
And everything inside him collapsed.
Milo was huddled in the dark corner.
White teddy-bear T-shirt.
Gray shorts.
Tear-streaked face.
The small brown bear crushed between both hands.
“Dad…”
Adrian dropped to his knees.
“Milo.”
The boy looked terrified.
Not hurt.
Not bleeding.
But terrified.
“DAD… SHE LOCKED ME IN HERE.”
Adrian opened both arms.
That was all Milo needed.
He scrambled out and threw himself against his father.
Adrian wrapped him tightly against his chest.
The teddy bear remained wedged between them.
Milo locked both arms around Adrian’s shoulders.
Behind them, Bianca got back to her feet.
Still angry.
Still without remorse.
“DON’T BABY HIM,” she snapped. “HE DESERVED IT.”
Adrian slowly turned his head.
He held Milo tighter.
His expression hardened.
Milo buried his face against his father.
And then, in a voice so small Adrian almost missed it, he whispered:
“She does it when you’re gone.”
Adrian froze.
The hallway suddenly felt colder.
He looked at his son.
“What?”
Milo’s fingers tightened in his shirt.
Bianca immediately said:
“He’s lying.”
Adrian looked at her.
Then back at Milo.
“How many times?”
Milo started crying again.
“I don’t know.”
And that answer frightened Adrian more than any number could have.
May you like
Because his son had apparently stopped counting.
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