Chapter 2 - The Forged TrapI clutched my baby tighter, feeling his whimpers slowly start to quiet down as he recognized the safety of my heartbeat. But my mind was racing with absolute terror. We were completely alone. Under the guise of a "private deep-cleaning day," Evelyn had dismissed the entire household staff. The massive iron gates at the front of the driveway were locked. I was trapped in my own home with a monster.
"Please, Evelyn," I begged, my voice hoarse, tears streaming down my flushed face. "Just tell me what you want from us. Why are you doing this to your own sister?"
Evelyn let out a sharp, breathless laugh. "Sister? You stopped being my sister the moment Father left you the lion's share of the family trust fund. While I worked seventy-hour weeks at the firm, you played house."
"I never cared about the money or the estate! You can have all of it! Take the bank accounts, take the cars, just let me keep my son!"
"It isn’t that simple, Clara, and you know it," she snapped, stepping closer. "The will clearly states that the main estate stays in trust until this child turns eighteen. This isn't just a house. It’s a fifty-million-dollar property in the middle of the most exclusive neighborhood in the country. And whoever holds custody of this screaming brat holds the keys to the entire empire."
I stared at her, horrified by the casual cruelty of her words. "You are sick. You need serious psychiatric help, Evelyn."
"I don’t need help. I need control," she countered smoothly.
"Victor trusted you," I cried, the memory of my husband's kind face breaking my heart all over again. "He asked you to look after us before he left for that overseas trip."
"Victor isn’t here to protect you anymore, Clara. He’s been gone for six months. His plane disappeared over the Atlantic. The board is ready to declare him legally dead."
"That hasn’t happened yet!" I argued, desperation fueling my anger. "You have no legal right to touch my child!"
"The ruthless custody lawyer I hired yesterday says otherwise," Evelyn smirked, crossing her arms. "Once I present the judge with the evidence that you are mentally unfit to mother this child, I take the baby, and I take the trust fund."
"What evidence? I am a perfectly capable mother!"
Evelyn leaned down, her face inches from mine. "I forged medical documents, Clara. I paid off two highly respected psychiatrists to sign papers stating you suffer from severe, violent postpartum psychosis. Who do you think a judge is going to believe? A grieving, hysterical, unhinged widow, or the respectable, poised aunt who runs the family business?"
My blood ran completely cold. "You planned this from the very beginning. The moment Victor’s plane went missing, you started plotting."
"Business is business, dear sister. I bought out the remaining corporate investors while you were sitting in the nursery crying every night. As of this morning, I hold the majority board votes. The deed to this house is registered under the corporation. I own this house. I own your trust. And now, I own your son. Hand him over. Now."
"Over my dead body!" I shrieked, kicking my legs out to keep her away.
"If that's how you want to play it," Evelyn growled. She lunged forward, grabbing my shoulder with a vicious, bruising grip. She yanked me across the floor, her blue dress sweeping the oak planks as she aggressively tried to pry my arms open.
"Somebody help us! Please!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, but the sound just bounced off the vaulted ceilings. Nobody was coming. Evelyn raised her hand high into the air, her face twisted in pure, ugly rage, preparing to strike me across the face hard enough to knock me unconscious. I closed my eyes and braced for the impact, curling entirely around my baby.
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But the blow never came.
Instead, a sound echoed through the mansion that made the blood freeze in both of our veins. THUD. The massive, heavy iron double doors at the front entrance swung violently open, catching the hallway air and sending a sudden, chilling draft through the sunlit grand corridor.
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