Ray's heart stopped, his breath catching in his throat. He had suspected it for so long, had felt it in his bones, but to hear her say it out loud—like a knife twisting in an already bleeding wound—was almost unbearable. His face contorted with a mix of disbelief and horror, but he couldn't stop the small, bitter smile that tugged at his lips. He had always known, hadn't he? Deep down, he had always suspected this monster was behind it all.
His aunt's face twisted into a grotesque smile. "Oh, Ray, don't look so shocked," she sneered, her eyes gleaming with wicked amusement. "Do you want to know how I killed her? Your precious mother? The same way I just killed your wife."
Ray's body trembled as her words sank in. The world around him seemed to close in, suffocating him in grief, rage, and helplessness. Esme. His mother. It was all too much. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but he didn't move. He couldn't move.
