Novel Squares
Save it for the judge
William’s towering silhouette cast a menacing shadow over the motionless form of his wife. Despite her best efforts to deceive him, he saw through her pretense. He had grown tired of her games and was no longer fooled by her feigned slumber. He knew very well that it was all an act.
“I know you’re awake,” he stated, his voice flat with a simmering edge. “You have visitors, and they don’t look happy.”
The bed rustled under Dora’s feigned movements, a poor imitation of awakening. “Dora.” His tone sharpened, like a knife against a whetstone. “Mmm.” Her hum is as fake as her concern for others.
“Get up. You have visitors.” This time, William’s command brooked no disobedience.
She bolted upright, eyes wide, feigning confusion. “At this hour? Can’t they come back tomorrow?”
“Sleeping beauties don’t check clocks,” he snapped, worn out of her charades. “Get up and follow me.”
Dora’s feet hit the carpet, slippered and slow. She trailed behind him, down the hall that felt more like a corridor to judgment.
In the living room, she met the late-night intruders with theatrical weariness. “My in-law, what brings you here at this late hour?” She massaged her eyes, selling the lie of deep sleep.
“Wait a minute, did something happen to Cathy?” A perfect picture of counterfeit worry painted itself across her features. Inside, William knew there was nothing but cold calculation.
Xavier’s silhouette cut through the dim light, his posture a monument to controlled fury. “Oh, yes, something did happen,” he stated, his voice devoid of warmth.
Dora’s performance escalated. “Oh my God, William,” she gasped, hands fluttering to her chest in feigned panic. “My daughter isn’t well. I must return to the Knight House to take care of her.” She turned, making a show of hastening towards the stairs.
“Stop right there!” The command erupted from Xavier, a thunderclap that rooted Dora to the spot.
She swiveled a picture of maternal distress etched on her face. “My in-law, what do you mean? Perhaps… perhaps Avery should care for Cathleen?”
“Someone poisoned my wife,” he said, each word a nail hammered into the coffin of civility. “It caused her to lose our daughter. Do you know anything about that?”
“Me?” Dora’s laugh was a razor blade wrapped in velvet. “No, but it was a girl. Girls don’t run empires.”
“Are you sure you don’t know anything, Mrs. Jackson?” Xavier leaned in, the menace in his gaze palpable.
“Nothing,” she insisted, her voice rising. “Why would I? If I find that person, I’d see them cuffed myself!”
Xavier’s jaw clenched, her eyes narrowing as her lies danced on the edge of believability. He knew the game she played-false innocence wrapped in concern, a serpent cloaked in silk.
His eyes pierced Dora like cold steel. “Then calling the cops shouldn’t be an issue, since you’re not the one who poisoned my wife.”
Dora recoiled as if slapped, her voice shrill with indignation. “What do you mean? Poison my own daughter? Are you out of your fucking minds?”
“Explain this.” He thrust the grainy footage at her, the damning evidence unspooling in the air between them.
“William!” Desperation clawed at her throat, her eyes flicking to her husband, seeking an ally. “Are you really going to let him accuse me like some… some common criminal in our own home?”
William stood motionless, his chest heaving. Betrayal and grief warred within him as Xavier handed over the recordings. His fingers trembled, the images on the screen blurring before his eyes.
“Why, Dora?” His voice broke, and the words were a whisper of anguish. “Why do you hate Cathleen so much? You vowed to love her like your own.”
“William, I-” She started, but the truth strangled any lie she might have woven.
“First Finn, then her husband… And now you’ve ripped away my granddaughter.” The accusation hung heavy in the air, filling the space with its bitter tang.Text © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.
“Love?” The word was a sneer on Dora’s lips. “That girl has been nothing but trouble since the day she entered our lives!”
“You promised!” William’s roar shattered the tense silence. “But all you’ve done is pit Avery against her, breeding hatred where there should have been sisterhood.”
Dora’s mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of the venom beneath. “I did what I had to,” she spat, her facade crumbling as the weight of her actions bore down upon her.
Dora’s face twisted, contorting into an ugly snarl. “Well, I had to do something,” she hissed, venom seeping through every syllable. “That bitch, Cathleen, has everything that was supposed to belong to my daughter.”
Her voice soared, a crescendo of malice and fury. “This man was supposed to be Avery’s man, and you ruined it all!” Dora’s scream tore through the silence of the room, her finger jabbing in William’s direction, her accusation sharp as knives.
The front door burst open with a thunderous crash, startling them all. A flood of blue uniforms poured into the room, their movements precise and clinical. The lead officer strode forward, his eyes locking onto Dora with the certainty of justice long overdue.
“Mrs. Jackson, you’re under arrest,” he stated, the words flat and unyielding.
Dora recoiled, disbelief etching lines across her brow. She stumbled backward, her mouth opening and closing, but no sound emerged. It was as if her voice, once so filled with poison, had been stolen away by the gravity of her fate.
“Hands behind your back,” commanded another officer, stepping forward with handcuffs glinting coldly in the low light.
“William!” she screeched, turning to him one last time, seeking any fragment of salvation. But her husband stood frozen, his expression hollowed out by betrayal.
The handcuffs clicked shut, the sound echoing like the final note of a dirge. With a rough tug, they spun her around and marched her towards the door. Her heels dragged across the floor, each step a testament to her descent.
“Please, I-” Dora sputtered; her plea cut off as they shoved her into the night.
“Save it for the judge,” grunted the officer, nudging her forward.
The door slammed shut, leaving only the echo of Dora’s desperate cries and the heavy breaths of the men she’d betrayed. Silence swallowed the room, thick with the residue of confrontation and the bitter taste of truth laid bare.