“What are we going to do now?” Sarah asked, her voice trembling.

We couldn’t go back home. That was clear. But we couldn’t just disappear, either. Richard had resources. He would find us.

“First, we need proof,” I finally decided. “Concrete proof we can take to the police.”

“Like what?”

“Like the substance he planned to use today.” The plan forming in my mind was risky, maybe even reckless. But as the initial terror gave way to a cold, calculating anger, I knew we had to act, and fast.

“We’re going back,” I announced, turning the key in the ignition.

“What?” Sarah’s eyes widened in panic. “Mom, have you lost your mind? He’s going to kill you!”

“Not if I get to him first,” I replied, surprised by the firmness in my own voice. “Think with me, Sarah. If we run now without proof, what happens? Richard will claim I had a breakdown, that I dragged you off on some irrational impulse. He’ll find us, and we’ll be even more vulnerable.” I made a sharp U-turn, heading back towards our house. “We need concrete evidence. The substance he plans to use today is our best shot.”

Sarah stared at me, her face a mixture of fear and admiration. “But how are we going to do it without him noticing?”

“We’ll keep up the charade. I’ll say I went to the pharmacy, took a painkiller, and I’m feeling a little better. You’ll go straight to your room, pretending to be unwell, too. While I distract Richard and the guests, you search the office.”

Sarah nodded slowly, her gaze determined. “And what if I find something? Or worse, what if he realizes what we’re doing?”

I swallowed hard. “Send a text with the word ‘now.’ If I get it, I’ll make an excuse, and we’ll leave immediately. If you find something, take pictures, but don’t take anything.”

As we got closer to the house, I felt my heart pound harder. I was about to walk into the lion’s den. When I parked in the driveway, I noticed there were more cars. All the guests had arrived.

The murmur of conversations greeted us as soon as we opened the door. Richard was in the center of the living room, telling some story that was making everyone laugh. When he saw us, his smile faltered for just an instant.

“Ah, you’re back,” he exclaimed, walking over and putting an arm around my waist. His touch, once comforting, now repulsed me. “Are you feeling better, dear?”

“A little,” I replied, forcing a smile. “The medicine is starting to kick in.”

“Good to hear.” He turned to Sarah. “And you, kiddo? You look a little pale.”

“I have a headache, too,” Sarah mumbled, playing her part perfectly. “I think I’m going to lie down for a bit.”

“Of course, of course,” Richard said, his concern so convincing that if I didn’t know the truth, I would have completely believed it.

Sarah went upstairs, and I joined the guests, accepting a glass of water Richard offered. I refused the champagne, claiming it wouldn’t mix with the medicine.

“No tea today?” he asked casually, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

“I think not,” I replied, keeping my tone light. “I’m trying to avoid caffeine when I have a migraine.”

Something darkened in his eyes for a brief moment, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by his usual charm. As Richard guided me through the guests, I kept a fixed smile on my face, though inside I was on high alert. Every time he touched my arm, I had to fight the urge to pull away. Every smile he gave me now seemed loaded with sinister double meanings. Discreetly, I checked my phone. No message from Sarah yet.

About twenty minutes later, as Richard and I were talking with a couple, my phone vibrated. A single word on the screen: Now.

My blood ran cold. We needed to leave immediately. “Excuse me,” I said to the group, forcing a smile. “I need to check on how Sarah is feeling.” Before Richard could protest, I walked away quickly, almost running up the stairs.

I found Sarah in her room, her face pale as paper. “He’s coming,” she whispered, grabbing my arm. “I realized he was coming upstairs and ran in here.”

“Did you find anything?” I asked quickly, already pulling her towards the door.

“Yes, in the office. A small, unlabeled bottle hidden in his desk drawer. I took pictures.”

We had no more time. We heard footsteps in the hall and then Richard’s voice. “Helen? Sarah? Are you in there?”

I exchanged a quick glance with my daughter. We couldn’t go out through the hall now. He would see us. The bedroom window overlooked the backyard, but we were on the second floor—a dangerous fall.

“Stay where you are,” I whispered. “We’ll pretend we were just talking.”

The door opened, and Richard walked in, his gaze immediately fixing on Sarah’s scared face. “Everything all right in here?” he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes alert, suspicious.

“Yes,” I replied, trying to sound normal. “Sarah still has a headache. I came to see if she needed anything.”

Richard studied us for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I see. And you, dear, is the headache better?”

“A little,” I lied. “I think I can go back to the party now.”

He smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Excellent. By the way, I made that special tea you like. It’s waiting for you in the kitchen.”

My stomach twisted. The tea. The trap he had mentioned on the phone. “Thank you, but I think I’ll pass today. The medicine…”

“I insist,” he interrupted, his tone still friendly but with a new firmness. “It’s a new blend I ordered especially for you. It helps with headaches, too.”

I realized then how dangerous our situation was. If I refused too vehemently, I would arouse suspicion. If I drank the tea, I would be in serious trouble. “Okay,” I finally agreed, trying to buy time. “I’ll just stay a few more minutes with Sarah.”

Richard hesitated, as if debating internally, before nodding. “Don’t take too long.”

As soon as he left, closing the door behind him, Sarah and I exchanged alarmed glances. “The tea,” she whispered. “He’s going to insist you drink it.”

“I know,” I replied, feeling the panic rise. “We need to get out of here now, through the window if necessary.” But as we contemplated our escape, I heard something that made me freeze: the sound of a key turning in the lock, locking us in from the outside. Richard hadn’t just been watching us. He had trapped us.

“He locked us in?” Sarah exclaimed, running to the door and trying to open it uselessly.

Panic threatened to paralyze me, but I forced myself to think. If Richard had locked us in, it meant he suspected something. The window, I decided, moving quickly towards it. It was our only way out now. I looked down. It was a fall of about fifteen feet to the grass below. Not fatal, certainly, but dangerous.

“It’s too high, Mom,” Sarah said, her face twisted in fear.

“I know, honey, but we have no choice.” I looked around the room, and my eyes landed on the comforter on the bed. “We can use this as a makeshift rope.” I quickly tore it off and began tying it to the heavy base of the desk. It wouldn’t be long enough to get us to the ground, but it would reduce the height of the fall.

“Mom,” Sarah called out softly, pointing towards the door. “He’s coming back.”

Straining my ears, I realized she was right. Footsteps were approaching. “Quick,” I whispered, finishing the knot and throwing the comforter out the window. “You go first. Climb down as far as you can and then let go.”

Sarah hesitated for only a second before positioning herself at the window. The footsteps were closer now. We heard the key being inserted into the lock. “Go!” I ordered.

Sarah began to descend. I watched anxiously as she reached the end of the fabric, still about six feet from the ground. “Let go now!” I instructed, seeing the door begin to open. Sarah let go and fell onto the grass, rolling as I had told her. She quickly got up, giving a thumbs-up.