The Rat Trap
The trailer wasn’t just old. It was a ruin.
Located on a desolate lot near the sea, the metal was rusting, and the windows were cracked. It looked like a stiff wind would blow it over.
When Alexandra opened the door, the smell hit them—stale fish, mold, and decades of dust.
“Mom, please,” Alexandra begged, covering her nose. “Come live with me. You can’t stay here.”
Myra sat on the filthy mattress, tears streaming down her face. “I have to. It was your father’s wish.”
She was broken. The man she loved had humiliated her from the grave. Or so she thought.
While Alexandra tried to clean the grime off the walls, her brothers, Marcus and Johnny, drove back to the mansion to collect Myra’s personal belongings.
They found Carl Ferguson already there, measuring the windows for new drapes. He looked like a king in a castle he didn’t build.
“Just grabbing some boxes,” Marcus said, keeping his voice dangerously calm.
Carl smiled. “Take your time. It’s all mine now anyway.”
Marcus clenched his fist inside his pocket. He knew one secret about this house that Carl didn’t.