Chapter 3 - The Trap Closes
Pain exploded across Meilin's scalp as Julian yanked her head back with terrifying force. She screamed, her hand slipping off the smart lock. The deadbolt clicked half-way, but remained firmly engaged in the frame.
"Stay back!" Julian yelled, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. He wasn't just shouting at Meilin; he was shouting at the door, at Arthur, at the entire world that was trying to intrude on his controlled environment.
He dragged her backward across the polished marble floor. The smooth silk of her cream dress slid helplessly over the stone. Meilin clawed at his fingers, trying to relieve the pressure on her hair, her heels kicking uselessly against the ground. Her belly felt tight and hard, the fetus reacting to the immense physical trauma and stress.
"Get off me! Stop it!" she screamed, her voice breaking into sob-choked gasps.
Outside, Arthur heard her scream. "Meilin! Meilin, I'm here! Hold on!" The slamming against the door turned into a continuous, desperate assault. "Julian, you bastard, if you touch her I'll kill you!"
Julian paid no attention to the threats from the hall. His mind was locked in a spiral of domestic control. He pulled Meilin up by her arms and shoved her hard onto the charcoal grey sofa. She landed heavily on the deep cushions, sinking into the plush fabric, gasping for air. Before she could regain her balance or pull her legs up, Julian lunged over her.
He dropped his heavy knee onto the cushion next to her hip, pinning her body down. His face was inches from hers, his eyes wide, bloodshot, and utterly devoid of reason. He reached down with his large right hand and slammed it firmly over her mouth and nose, cutting off her breath mid-scream.
"Stop it!" he hissed through clenched teeth, his dark hair falling messy over his forehead. "Shut up! You are going to ruin everything! Do you have any idea what happens if the police come here? Do you have any idea what Arthur has on his flash drive?"
Meilin fought under his weight. She couldn't breathe. His palm pressed down hard against her nose, sealing her lips together. The scent of his expensive cologne mixed with the metallic taste of her own fear. Darkness began to dance at the edges of her vision. She flailed her arms, her knuckles striking his ribs, his chest, his turtleneck, but he barely flinched. He was a man possessed by the singular need to suppress her voice.
Below them, on the floor, little Lily was standing paralyzed. The toddler looked at her mother trapped beneath her father's crushing weight. She saw her mother's eyes—wide, terrified, pleading.
"Mommy..." Lily whimpered softly.
Julian flicked his gaze toward the child for a split second. "Lily, go to your room! Now!" he commanded, his muffled voice harsh behind his hand.
Instead of running to her bedroom down the dark hallway, Lily turned her small body toward the front entry. The pounding on the door was still happening—a rhythmic, reassuring thud from the outside world.
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Arthur was screaming, "Open the door! Open it!"
Lily took a timid step toward the doorway. Her yellow dress rustled softly against her legs. She looked back one last time at her mother, whose face was turning pale under Julian's oppressive hand. Then, with the sudden, fierce determination that only a terrified child possesses, the little girl turned and sprinted toward the door.
