Chapter 6 - The Gaslighting Web
Panic seized my limbs.
“He’s early,” Lucía whispered, her face draining of all color. She grabbed the newspaper clippings and shoved them back into the ledger, pushing the heavy drawer shut. “If he finds us in his study… we’re dead.”
“Hide!” I hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the heavy velvet drapes covering the study’s large bay window.
We slipped behind the floor-length curtains just as the doorknob to the study jiggled.
Click.
The door swung open. Esteban’s heavy footsteps entered the room. Through a tiny gap in the velvet fabric, I watched him walk toward his desk. His posture was relaxed, but there was a sharp, predatory tension in the way his eyes scanned the room.
He stopped at the desk.
He reached out and touched the handle of the bottom drawer.
My heart hammered so violently I was certain he could hear it through the walls. I held my breath, pressing my hand over my mouth to stifle any sound.
Esteban frowned. He pulled the drawer slightly. It opened smoothly—because I had forgotten to re-engage the lock in my panic.
Silence stretched in the room for five agonizing seconds.
Then, Esteban let out a low, slow breath. He reached inside, pulled out the ledger, and flipped it open. His expression didn't show surprise or panic. It showed cold, calculating disappointment.
“Clara,” Esteban called out softly into the empty room, his voice smooth as silk. “I know you’re in here, darling. Hiding behind the curtains won't change anything.”
My legs felt like lead. Slowly, trembling from head to toe, I stepped out from behind the velvet drape. Lucía stayed hidden in the shadows behind me, holding her breath.
Esteban stood by the desk, holding the black leather ledger in one hand. He looked at me not with anger, but with a patronizing, pitying smile that made my skin crawl.
“Clara, sweetheart. What are you doing in my private files?” he asked, his tone dripping with fake gentleness. “Are you feeling all right? Have you been taking your medication?”
My medication.
The classic weapon of the manipulator. The instant gaslighting script designed to make me question my own sanity.
“Don’t you dare,” I spat, my voice shaking with rage. “Don’t you dare try to gaslight me, Esteban! I saw the files! I saw what you did to your first wife! I know who Lucía is!”
Esteban sighed softly, running a hand through his dark hair as if dealing with a stubborn, misbehaving child. He closed the ledger and set it gently back on the desk.
“See? Listen to yourself,” he murmured, taking a step toward me. “You’re talking about ghosts, Clara. You’re talking about wild conspiracy theories. You’ve been under so much stress lately—managing the house, dealing with your brother and his unstable wife… you’re hallucinating.”
“I am not hallucinating!” I shouted, stepping back as he approached. “The newspaper clippings are right here! The police are going to see every single page of this ledger!”
“What police, Clara?” Esteban asked softly, his voice dropping an octave, losing all its warmth, replaced by a chilling, razor-sharp edge.
Before I could react, the study door swung open wider, and standing in the doorway was Tomás.
My brother looked pale, his eyes wide and panicked as he looked between Esteban and me. He had come home early from work as well.
“Clara… what’s going on?” Tomás stammered, his voice shaking. “Esteban called me on my way home… he said… he said you’ve been having a severe mental breakdown. He said you attacked Lucía last night.”
I spun around to look at Tomás, horror washing over me. “Tomás, no! Don't listen to him! He’s lying! He’s a monster—he tried to kill his first wife, and he’s trying to—”
“She’s having a psychotic episode, Tomás,” Esteban said smoothly, stepping past me and putting a comforting, brotherly hand on Tomás’s shoulder. “She’s been accusing Lucía of terrible things for weeks. Look at her—she broke into my private study and tore through my personal belongings.”
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Tomás looked at me, his eyes filled with a devastating mix of fear, confusion, and betrayal. He didn't know who to believe.
And in that moment, I realized just how thoroughly Esteban had woven his web. We were trapped in a house of mirrors, and the monster held all the keys.
