My Stepfather’s Prey - Chapter 6: Chapter 6

Vincent Lowell had been coiled like a predator ready to strike, but at the sound of movement outside, he straightened abruptly, clearing his throat before calling toward the door.
"Who's there?"
A voice, warm but worn with age, answered from the hallway.
"It's your neighbor—Margaret Evans."
That voice.
My heart jumped. In an instant, the kind, familiar face of the woman next door filled my mind.
Aunt Margaret.
Desperate, I ignored Vincent's stunned glare and stumbled toward the door on shaky legs.
Afraid I might expose him, Vincent shadowed me, tension rolling off him in waves.
When the door swung open, Aunt Margaret took one look at my ragged breathing and Vincent's stiff posture. She hesitated, then spoke carefully.
"Evelyn, with the lockdown keeping everyone cooped up, I figured you might need a few things. Since you're here alone."
Without waiting for an answer, she stepped inside and set a grocery bag in the corner.
After the terror of the last hour, the sight of her—this woman who'd always watched over me—sent warmth flooding through my chest.
"Thank you, Aunt Margaret."
"Evelyn, if you need anything, just knock. Your mother and I have been neighbors for years..."
Her voice trailed off as her eyes flicked to Vincent, hovering silently nearby.
"You must be the man Evelyn's mother talked about. She worked hard raising that girl. You'd better treat them right."
Vincent nodded, his expression sickeningly earnest.
Hearing her words, my throat tightened. I almost spilled everything—the threats, the fear—but the memory of Vincent's warning clamped my mouth shut. Not a word escaped.
Before leaving, Aunt Margaret gave me a long look and added, like she always did,
"You're a smart girl, but the world's full of sharp edges. Watch your back. Protect yourself first—then you can protect your mother."
As if catching herself rambling, she waved a hand and turned away, disappearing down the hall without another word.
I stood frozen, clarity hitting me like a slap.
Yes. I had to stay sharp. Stay clear-headed.
Vincent's so-called "assets"? Probably fiction.
And my mother—hopelessly in love with him? Please. She was too strong, too independent for that kind of melodrama.
Which meant—it was all lies.
A shudder ran through me as I realized how close I'd come to crumbling under his threats.
Aunt Margaret's timing had saved me.
What she didn't know was that her interruption had derailed Vincent's plans. Instead of pushing further, he retreated to the study without a word.
Back in my room, dread twisted in my gut.
She'd pulled me back from the edge—this time.
But what stopped Vincent from trying again?
His intentions were clear. Yet without proof, the police would just shrug it off.
Then it hit me.
My mother.
Why hadn't I called her?
One conversation, and she'd put Vincent in his place.
But no matter how many times I dialed, the line just rang and rang.
What was she doing at this hour?
Frustrated, I tossed my phone aside and glared at the locked door.
Remembering Aunt Margaret's warning, I checked the lock three times. Still uneasy, I shoved the nightstand in front of the door as a barricade.
Only then did I collapse into bed, nerves frayed.
Exhaustion and the lingering comfort of Aunt Margaret's presence must have dragged me under.
But deep in the night, a faint scrape jerked me awake.
The doorknob twisted—gentle at first, then with enough force to rattle the nightstand.
My pulse roared in my ears. Trembling in the dark, I clutched my phone like a weapon.
Vincent. He wasn't done.
Just as panic threatened to swallow me whole, the knob went still. The shaking stopped.
I didn't dare breathe. Eyes locked on the door, I half-expected a shadow to burst through the second I blinked.
When the silence held, I forced myself up and crept forward.
The hallway was empty. But my gaze caught on the doorframe.
Ice slid down my spine.
The knob was fine—but the frame was splintered, just slightly, from the force of being wrenched.
This time, I'd gotten lucky.
Next time? I might not.