Chapter 39

Sofia

My heart pounds hard in my throat. She’s lost her mind. She’s going to do something to me, and I don’t want to think what.

The baby. I won’t let her hurt our baby.

Surely, Astrid isn’t that crazed.

I break into the foyer and hesitate, glancing between the dark upstairs of the house and the corridor that leads to the basement door and the kitchen. That corridor never seemed longer than it does right now, but I don’t want to trap myself upstairs. I’d rather be downstairs with another adult, and there might be a place for me to hide or another exit down there.

Astrid looms in the kitchen and pounces on me while the doorknob to the basement twists in my hands. She’s unarmed, but her strength is monstrous. Her long, icy nails claw and sink into my arms as she drags me against her chest, pulling me into the kitchen with her.

“Shh, princess,” she purrs darkly into my hair. I thrash against her, but she holds me easily. “Is this the kind of stuff you wore around him, when you were supposed to be the fucking nanny?” Astrid growls. “And the fucking nanny was what you turned out to be, wasn’t it?”

As she holds me tight, the soft hint of moonlight trickles into the sky, signaling that the storm is over. But it’s only beginning inside the house. The rising sun doesn’t mean it’s a new day in here.

“Astrid,” Lucas calls to her, firmly. My gaze meets with his, and I pray to God that he knows the magic words to say to call her off. I don’t want to assault the woman—well, I do, since she’s threatening me, but I can’t. I’m already wanted for insurance fraud, and unhinged as Astrid might be, she’ll only spin this on its head and use it against us.

And the kids. God, the kids. Is Charlie OK? Maddy’s downstairs at least. Shit, shit, shit, can this get any worse?

“Astrid, you don’t want to do this. You’re going to ruin your life if you don’t relax and let her go,” Lucas says. “This is grounds to have your custody rights removed entirely. Let her go, and we’ll talk about this. Rationally. Like adults.”

“You already ruined my life, you giant dick!” Astrid cries. “You divorced me! Took my children away. And now, you’ve hired yourself a new wife, all of, what, eighteen? Pregnant so fast it’d make your head spin. You ruined my life, Lucas. You’re the one making me do this.” Her words slur a little, and her breath stinks of alcohol.

It takes all my resolve not to elbow her in the stomach and make a break for it.

Breathe through it, Sof. For the kids. For the future. For Lucas. Shit, even for this crazy bitch who’s got you pinned.

“Listen to me, Astrid,” Lucas says, placing his palms up to her. “I know that you feel bad right now. But let’s walk it through, OK? If you hurt Sofia, you’re going to end up in prison or in a mental hospital. Period, point blank. You won’t win. Your life won’t get better. The only way to fix this is to let her go. Admit that you need help. I’ll help you. We’ll all help you.”

“Now he pays attention. You couldn’t pay attention before, but now I’ve got my arm around this little slut’s neck, you listen. Typical fucking asshole.”

“Fine, I’m an asshole,” Lucas says, clearly. No, you’re not an asshole. This is just a messed-up situation and we need to deal with it. “I should’ve realized you were struggling sooner, Astrid. Just let Sofia go, and we can talk. OK? We can talk about everything. About Christmas and the kids. Everything.” Lucas says. There’s a hint of command in his tone, but at the same time, he’s gentle with her.

Perhaps he senses Astrid will snap like a year-old candy cane if he doesn’t. She’s already cracked, colorless.

“Yeah?” Astrid pants, her chest rising and falling hard against my back. “We can talk?” Her voice is bright and shaky with madness.

“Of course, we can talk, Astrid,” Lucas promises her. “Of course, we can. Just let Sofia go.”

“OK,” Astrid breathes. “I want to make a deal with you.” She still hasn’t let go of me, and she doesn’t sound any less crazy than she did a second ago.

I take a deep, cleansing breath, struggling to center myself. I know it’s not over. It’s not over yet.

“All right,” Lucas allows. “Let’s make a deal. Why don’t you let Sofia go?”

“Why the fuck do you keep calling her Sofia? Did you tell me the wrong name all along? What’s going on?” My eyes bulge as she tightens her grip, and the urge to turn and rabbit punch her almost overwhelms me. Almost. “I’m not letting this woman go until we make a goddamn deal, Lucas.”

“All right, all right,” Lucas whispers, creeping closer. “We can make a deal. Relax.”

“This bitch is not a nanny, Lucas,” she sneers. “She’s a homewrecker. Let’s call it what it is. And I get it, believe me. I get it. But you need to let her go now. She needs to get a new job. A real job.”

Lucas nods. “That’s fine,” he whispers. “Consider it done. Sofia, you’re fired.”

Astrid walks me closer to Lucas, and we’re within arm’s reach of the chopping block and the array of knives that it stocks. She’s holding me, but surely, she’s not crazy enough to reach for a knife? No way. She’s drunk and belligerent, not a psychopath.

We come close to the den entrance through the kitchen, and Astrid’s gaze is glued maniacally to Lucas’s.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” she tells him. “Put her out in the snow, where she belongs. Put her out in the snow, like I was. I’m the mother here, Lucas. This is my family!” Her fingers clench as hard as they can and now I can’t breathe. “Fire her, Lucas! Put her out in the snow, Lucas! Put her out in the snow like you put me out in the—!”

Lucas moves like lightning. He whip cracks out, almost serpentine in motion, and grasps Astrid by the wrist, then twists it, turns her, and restrains her. Like that, I’m free. I let out a low sigh.

Astrid staggers on the kitchen tile, gasps at the sudden change of fate. “Let—you—” she stammers, ut she can’t get the words out. It’s one thing being in control of someone smaller, but when the person is bigger and overwhelming you?

Astrid sputters wordlessly, tugs once, but winces.

“Don’t move, Astrid. I don’t want to hurt you, all right?”

Footsteps thunder down the stairs. “Dad? Are you OK? I heard yelling,” Charlie yells from the hall.

“It’s OK, Charlie,” Lucas says. “Everything’s OK. Don’t come in here. You stay where you are.”

The basement door creaks open, and I glance in that direction. James pokes his head out and catches up on the action, then gestures to a point out of sight. To Charlie. The boy hurries over, enters, and the basement door shuts, securing both the children downstairs with Uncle James.

Headlights sweep down into the driveway, splashing through the porch windows, and my brow furrows. How did anyone know we needed help if our electricity was out? Did James make a call with his cell phone?

A car door slams shut outside, and I look over to Astrid and Lucas again. They aren’t paying any attention to the car outside. Astrid is tearfully explaining to Lucas that she’s the one who’s pregnant with his third child, not me.

I shake my head with pity for the woman, and an authoritative knock draws all my attention away from them again.

Shit. The police.

We never did figure out exactly how we could wiggle free from the warrant for insurance fraud that was issued in Ohio. We probably can’t. I’m going to end up in jail, right alongside Astrid for her breaking and entering stint. Perfect.

But Lucas holds Astrid, talks to her softly, and she relaxes her shoulders, bit by bit. “Hey, Sofia,” he calls to me, “could you go get the door, please?”

I swallow and nod, forcing myself to walk the walk, to face the music. I must. I’ve hidden long enough.

I throw the front door open and that blast of blizzard air hits me again.

Agent Finn Callahan, battened down in a thick jacket, glowers back at me from the porch stoop.

“I came here to return this,” he informs me promptly, flourishing three thick stacks of cash, still wrapped in paper. I take each of them and rest them on the small table alongside the front door. Lucas gave Agent Callahan thirty thousand dollars to walk away. “I thought about it long and hard. But the money isn’t worth my integrity as an investigator. And for that, I do apologize, Miss Marshall. But I am going to have to report your presence at this home, and you will face criminal charges for insurance fraud.”

“Ha! I knew it.” Astrid cries from the kitchen. “I knew that she was full of shit, Lucas.”

This draws Finn’s attention deeper into the house and he furrows his brow at the blonde woman with the huge raccoon eyes, being gently subdued by Lucas Gray. It’s an odd scene to find in the early hours of the morning on Christmas Day.

“Is everything all right in here?” Agent Callahan asks.

“When you report Miss Marshall,” Lucas calls to him, “I need you to also inform the sheriff of another situation. There was a break-in perpetrated by my ex-wife, who is an un-medicated manic-depressive patient. She assaulted one of the household members and damaged my property.”

“You son of a bitch!” Astrid sneers, trying to rip herself away from him, unsuccessfully. “You son of a bitch, you said you would help me.”

“I am helping you,” Lucas promises her.

Agent Callahan crosses over the threshold, looks around, and agrees to make a report to the local police using his radio.

Before he steps out the door again, he gives me one last sad look and nods to himself. “I know you did what you had to do,” he tells me. “And that’s what I’m doing, too.”