The morning light slipped through the curtains, pale and cold, painting the Stevenson Mansion in muted tones. Miss Dora hadn't slept all night.
She sat in her rocking chair, clutching little Harry close. His small hands were wrapped in fresh bandages, his face still marred by faint scratches, and every so often he whimpered in his sleep.
Her chest tightened. I have to do something. I can't let this continue… she'll kill him if I stay silent.
Dora's hand trembled as she picked up her phone. She glanced toward the hallway—quiet. The house felt heavy, as if holding its breath.
She dialed David's number with shaking fingers.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Kay was sipping coffee, her hair damp from her morning shower. The world would have seen a beautiful bride in a silk robe, but beneath the silk was a predator—listening, calculating.
Her phone buzzed: a tiny security alert from the hidden hallway cameras she'd installed weeks ago.
She tapped the screen, and there it was—Miss Dora, clutching the phone with shaking hands, whispering urgently into it.
Kay's smile faded. Her heart thumped once, then her mind sharpened like a blade.
She's telling him. That old witch is telling him.
Upstairs, Dora's voice cracked into the phone.
"David… please… you need to come home early. I need to speak to you—about Kay. About what she's doing—"
The line went silent for a moment, then David's calm, tired voice came through:
"Mom? What are you talking about?"
"Just… please… come home. It's about Harry. It's about Kay hurting him." Her voice broke. "She's dangerous, David. You need to hear me before—"
A soft knock on her door cut her words short.
Dora froze.
"Mom? What's happening?" David's voice grew sharp with alarm.
"N-nothing, sweetheart," she whispered quickly, forcing steadiness into her voice. "Please… just come home. Soon."
She ended the call and slipped the phone into her pocket.
The knock came again, sharper this time.
"Miss Dora?" Kay's sweet, poisonous voice slid through the wood. "May I come in?"
Dora's breath quickened. She stood, setting Harry gently on the bed. "Stay here, darling," she whispered, stroking his hair. "Grandma will be right back."
She opened the door only a crack. Kay was standing there, arms folded, eyes bright but cold.
"Good morning," Kay said softly. "You look… tired."
"What do you want?" Dora asked, her voice steady despite her racing heart.
Kay tilted her head. "I couldn't help but hear you on the phone… whispering. Talking about me." Her smile widened. "That's not very nice, is it?"
Dora's knuckles whitened on the doorknob. "You stay away from my grandson."
"Ah." Kay stepped closer, invading the doorway. "So that's what this is about. You think I'm hurting him."
"I don't think," Dora said. Her voice rose despite herself. "I know."
For a moment, the mask slipped from Kay's face. Her lips curled into a snarl.
"You shouldn't have done that," she whispered. "You shouldn't have called him."
Dora slammed the door shut in her face, locking it. Her chest heaved as she backed away. Harry stirred on the bed, eyes opening.
"Grandma…?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with those tiny bandaged hands.
Kay's knuckles rapped against the door—slow, deliberate.
"Open it, Dora," she purred, though the edge in her voice made the hairs on Dora's arms stand up.
"You can't hide in there forever."
Dora's eyes darted to the window, fumbling with the latch. If she could just… but no. They were on the second floor. There was no safe escape.
The knocking stopped.
Silence.
Then—the soft, dreadful click of someone working at the lock.
Dora's breath caught. "No… no, please…" She darted back to the bed, scooping Harry into her arms.
"Grandma?" His voice was trembling now, frightened.
"It's okay, baby. I've got you. Shh…"
The handle jiggled once, twice—then a violent crack as the lock gave way.
The door burst open.
Kay stood in the doorway, no pretense left. Her eyes burned with fury, her smile a thin, terrifying slash.
"You meddling old woman," she hissed, stepping inside. "I told you—you should have stayed out of my way."
Dora backed up until she hit the dresser, clutching Harry tighter. "David is on his way," she warned, though her voice shook. "He'll be here any minute—"
Kay laughed, low and dark, closing the distance between them.
"Oh, sweet Dora… you think I don't know his schedule? I made sure he's stuck in that meeting for another hour." She tilted her head, voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "And an hour is all I need."
Harry began to cry, tiny hands clutching at Dora's collar. "Leave us alone!" he sobbed.
Kay's gaze flicked to him, hatred flashing in her eyes.
"That brat… always ruining things."
"Don't you dare touch him!" Dora's voice rang out, desperate but strong.
Kay's smile was slow, feral—and then—
the sound of tires on gravel outside.
Dora's heart leapt. She hurried to the window just in time to see headlights sweeping across the drive. A car door slammed.
Kay's head snapped toward the window, her expression shifting from fury to calculation in a blink.
David. He'd come. Much too soon.
Kay straightened her robe, smoothing her hair back with trembling fingers. Her voice, when it came, was soft and falsely calm.
"Lucky you," she murmured, eyes narrowing on Dora. "Your knight is early."
Footsteps echoed in the hall downstairs, the front door opening. David's voice floated up—muffled, calling:
"Mom? Harry? Kay?"
Dora clutched Harry tighter, tears springing to her eyes. Relief and terror tangled in her chest.
"David!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "Up here! Quickly!"
Kay's lips curved into a dangerous smile. She stepped back into the doorway, pausing just long enough to whisper,
"This isn't over. Not by a long shot."
Then she turned, her voice shifting to that honeyed sweetness she wore like a weapon.
"David! Upstairs, darling! We're in here!"
Her footsteps faded into the hall just as David's heavy tread started up the stairs.
Dora held Harry close, her knuckles white. Her whole body trembled as she whispered into his hair,
"It's okay, baby… it's okay now… Daddy's home…"
But deep inside, she knew: Kay had only begun.