The moment Derrick’s words left his lips, Leah felt the air in the apartment shift. The easy warmth of their home, the illusion of safety she had carefully constructed, shattered in an instant. A tight coil of fear wrapped around her chest, making it hard to breathe.

  He knew.

  Her mind raced, trying to find a way to play it off, to pretend she hadn’t been anywhere near that room, but her instincts screamed that it was too late. Derrick wasn’t stupid. He had seen something—maybe her body language, maybe the beads of sweat forming at her hairline.

  Leah forced herself to smile, casual but small, not wanting to overdo it. “What do you mean?” she asked, keeping her voice as steady as possible.

  Derrick tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’ve been acting strange all evening,” he said smoothly, reaching up to loosen his tie. “Like something’s on your mind.”

  Leah shrugged, her throat dry. “Just tired, like I said.” She turned away, trying to put some distance between them, heading toward the kitchen. “I was thinking of making some tea before bed. Want some?”

  She needed to keep moving, to keep things normal. If she stayed in one place too long, she might slip. Might let her fear show.

  Derrick didn’t answer immediately, and for a terrifying second, she thought he might stop her, might reach out and grip her wrist the way he sometimes did when he wanted her undivided attention. But instead, she heard his footsteps retreat toward the living room.

  “Sure,” he finally said, his voice laced with something unreadable. “Tea sounds nice.”

  Leah kept her hands steady as she filled the kettle, waiting for the water to boil. She could feel Derrick’s presence behind her, lingering, watching. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

  She had to be careful.

  She had to get out of here.

  But she couldn’t make a mistake. Not yet.

  When the tea was ready, she carried the cups to the living room, handing him his before settling on the couch opposite him. Her fingers curled tightly around the ceramic mug, using its warmth as an anchor.

  Derrick took a sip, then leaned back against the couch, studying her. “You sure everything’s okay?” he asked again.

  Leah forced a soft chuckle. “You’re really worried about me, huh?”

  He didn’t laugh. “Of course I am.”

  For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Leah’s mind screamed at her to do something—anything—to break the tension. She took a sip of her tea and forced herself to look relaxed. “I think I just need a good night’s sleep.”

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  Derrick nodded slowly, his fingers tapping idly against the armrest of his chair. “That’s a good idea.” He paused. “You know, I just remembered—I need to check something in the office. Can you give me a moment?”

  Leah’s stomach twisted.

  The office. Where she had searched for the key.

  She nodded quickly, feigning indifference. “Of course.”

  Derrick stood, taking his tea with him. She listened as his footsteps disappeared down the hall, the door clicking shut behind him.

  The moment he was out of sight, Leah sprang into action.

  She didn’t have much time. If he was going to check his things, he’d notice that something had been disturbed. And then… she didn’t want to think about what would happen next.

  She had to get out. Now.

  Leah grabbed her phone off the coffee table and rushed toward the front door, her heart hammering. She reached for the deadbolt, fingers fumbling—and froze.

  It was locked.

  From the inside.

  Panic shot through her veins like ice. She twisted the knob, rattled it hard. It didn’t budge. Her eyes darted to the side, and that’s when she saw it.

  The key.

  It was gone.

  Her pulse pounded in her ears. Derrick had taken it. He had locked her in.

  She spun around, scanning the apartment for another way out. The windows? No, they were reinforced—she’d noticed that before, joking once about how unnecessary it was to have such heavy locks on them. Now, she understood.

  She was trapped.

  A creak echoed from the hallway.

  Derrick was coming back.

  Leah’s body moved before her mind could catch up. She bolted down the hall, adrenaline carrying her faster than she thought possible. The only place left to go was the bedroom. She could barricade herself inside, maybe break the window—

  She didn’t make it.

  A hand shot out, grabbing her wrist in a vice-like grip. She let out a startled cry as she was yanked backward, stumbling into Derrick’s chest.

  His other hand came up, gripping her chin, forcing her to look up at him. His expression was calm—too calm—but his grip was unyielding. “Where are you going, sweetheart?”

  Leah swallowed hard. “Derrick—”

  “Shhh,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over her cheek. “You’re shaking.”

  She hadn’t even realized it, but she was. Trembling from head to toe.

  Derrick exhaled softly, his lips curving into something that might have been mistaken for affection. But his eyes—his eyes told a different story.

  “Leah,” he whispered, “you’ve been snooping.”

  Her blood ran cold.

  He knew. He had known all along.

  She opened her mouth to deny it, to say something—anything—but before she could, Derrick’s grip tightened, and he started pulling her down the hall.

  “No—Derrick, wait!” she gasped, struggling against him. He didn’t respond. He was too strong. Too prepared.

  She realized, with horrifying certainty, that this had been inevitable. That the moment she had set foot in that room, she had signed her fate.

  Her back hit the locked door.

  Derrick reached into his pocket and pulled out the key.

  “Please,” Leah choked out. “Derrick, just talk to me—”

  The door creaked open.

  Darkness yawned beyond it.

  Before she could react, Derrick shoved her inside.

  She stumbled forward, catching herself on shaky legs. She spun around, eyes wide, just in time to see Derrick standing in the doorway, looking at her with something unreadable in his gaze.

  And then—

  The door slammed shut.

  A heavy click echoed in the silence.

  Leah lunged for the handle, twisting it desperately.

  Locked.

  “No—no, no, no!” she cried, pounding against the wood. “Derrick! Let me out!”

  Silence.

  She pressed her ear against the door, listening, but there were no retreating footsteps. He was still there.

  Waiting.

  And then, his voice, low and quiet:

  “You shouldn’t have gone looking, Leah.”

  A choked sob escaped her throat. She kept pounding, kept twisting the knob. “Derrick, please!”

  A pause. And then—

  “You’ll understand soon enough.”

  Then, his footsteps retreated, growing fainter until they disappeared entirely, leaving Leah alone in the dark.