Chapter 13 - THE TRAP SPRUNGBefore Clara could call out for Arthur, two heavy vehicles screeched to a halt in the driveway outside.
Red-and-blue emergency lights flashed violently through the nursery blinds, painting the star-patterned walls in eerie, rhythmic crimson and azure.
Downstairs, heavy knocking rattled the front door.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Child Protective Services and County Sheriff! Open the door!"
Arthur rushed out of the bathroom, a towel draped over his broad shoulders, his heart pounding in his throat. He bounded down the stairs three at a time and pulled the front door open.
Standing on the porch were two uniformed sheriff’s deputies and a stern-looking woman wearing an official Social Services ID badge. Standing directly behind them on the walkway was Eleanor Pendelton, holding a sleek black handbag, her face a masterclass in performative grief and maternal concern.
"Mr. Pendelton?" the caseworker asked crisply. "We received an emergency high-risk report regarding an infant in danger due to severe maternal psychological distress and substance abuse at this address."
"What?!" Arthur shouted, his chest heaving, his broad frame instantly blocking the doorway. "That's complete madness! My wife is fine! My mother is under a protective restriction—"
"Arthur, please!" Eleanor sobbed dramatically, stepping toward the deputies with crocodile tears streaming down her cheeks. "I tried to hide it to protect the family! She’s been slipping drugs into the baby’s room! Look at his state—she’s manipulating him too!"
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"GET HER OFF MY PROPERTY!" Arthur roared, his jaw clenched, his blue eyes blazing with terrifying fury.
"Sir, calm down!" the senior deputy commanded, reaching for his holster strap. "We have a court-sanctioned emergency entry order. Stand aside so we can inspect the minor."
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