I unlocked the door the moment I heard the struggle begin outside. Ryan could barely stand, so I pulled him up as best I could, wrapping my arm under his shoulders. Together, we stumbled into the hallway.
Two officers entered, weapons lowered but ready, scanning everything in seconds.
Ethan raised his hands immediately. The transformation was instant—like flipping a switch.
The man who had whispered a final goodbye over our bodies was gone.
In his place stood someone else entirely.
A frightened husband.
A confused father.
A performance so cheap it made me sick.
“Officer, thank God,” he said, voice shaking just enough to sound convincing. “My wife had some kind of breakdown. My son’s sick. I don’t know what’s going on.”
“He poisoned us!” I shouted.
My voice cracked—but it came out.
The room went still.
One officer looked at me. Then at Ryan. Then at the dining table—still set. The chair knocked over. The suitcase near the door. The woman frozen by the kitchen, her face pale.
No one needed to guess anymore.
They got us out in less than two minutes.
Outside, the cold air hit my face so hard it felt unreal. They rushed us into an ambulance. I refused to let go of Ryan’s hand—not even for a second.