Chapter 3 - The Gaslight Trap
I backed away from my own son, unable to recognize the cruel man standing before me.
"Give me my phone right now," I ordered, trying to keep my voice steady.
Mark shook his head, sliding the phone deep into his pants pocket.
"You are clearly having a severe paranoid episode, Arthur," Chloe chimed in, stepping closer to me.
"No one broke into your room."
"You set up a camera and took those pictures of yourself because your dementia is getting significantly worse."
I felt a sickening knot twist in my stomach at her brilliant, evil lie.
They had planned this completely out, ready to twist the truth at every single turn.
"Sarah's car belongs to me, and you will never touch it," I spat back at her.
Chloe let out a cold, sharp laugh that chilled my bones.
"We already have a wealthy buyer lined up for it, Arthur."
"A private collector is wiring fifty thousand dollars to our joint account tomorrow morning."
I rushed toward the front door, absolutely desperate to escape this nightmare.
Mark grabbed my arm, but I shoved him backward into the heavy coffee table.
I unlocked the deadbolt, ran down the apartment stairs, and sprinted into the dark parking lot.
I climbed into the Mustang, my heart pounding aggressively against my ribs.
I turned the ignition key, and the classic engine roared to life.
I threw the car into reverse and slammed my foot heavily on the gas pedal.
The car didn't stop when I hit the brakes at the end of the lot.
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The brake line had been completely severed, and I was speeding backward toward a solid brick wall.
I braced for the fatal impact, but a strange man suddenly jumped up from the backseat and pulled the emergency brake.
