Death Of A Rivera

Tacoma, Seattle — 2016, June 12th

At the Rivera Mansion

The mansion loomed in darkness as I stumbled through the grand double doors. The polished floors glinted faintly under the soft moonlight that filtered through the towering windows. I wasn’t drunk, but my head buzzed slightly from the margaritas Ashley insisted I try during our talk. She was a bartender after all, and mixing drinks was her language of comfort—I couldn’t blame her.

My heels clicked faintly against the marble as I made my way to the kitchen. The cavernous silence of the house pressed against my ears, broken only by the sound of the faucet as I filled a glass with cold water. The icy liquid rushed down my throat, quenching the sudden dryness that came with the memory of my fight with Ethan.

The argument played back in vivid fragments: harsh words hurled like daggers, his sharp retorts, and the ever-present shadow of his family. I set the glass down, gripping the counter as frustration tightened its grip on me. I knew I had gone too far, but I was tired of being treated like an intruder in my own life. Ethan’s mother had her claws in everything—our decisions, our marriage, and even our daughter.

I rinsed the glass, placed it back in the cupboard, and grabbed my purse. My footsteps echoed softly as I climbed the grand staircase, pausing outside Autumn’s room. The door creaked faintly as I eased it open, peering inside to check on her.

Her small figure was curled under her thick duvet, the soft rise and fall of her chest reassuring me. Miss Ponytail, her favorite teddy bear, was clutched tightly in her arms. I tiptoed to her bedside and gently brushed away the plate of cookies the nanny had unwisely left. I’d told her countless times: no sugary snacks after six. Autumn stirred, her blonde curls shifting as her big blue eyes fluttered open, meeting mine.

“Mom?” her tiny voice was groggy but sweet.

I slid into the bed beside her, wrapping her in my arms. “Mommy’s here,” I murmured, kissing her soft cheek. The warmth of her little body against mine calmed me, but guilt gnawed at me. She’d witnessed our argument. I’d seen the fear in her eyes when Ethan’s voice rose. She shouldn’t have to see that.

“Are you and Daddy getting a divorce?” she asked, her voice trembling. The words hit me like a slap. Divorce? How did she even know that word?

“No, honey,” I assured her, cupping her cheek. “We’re just figuring some things out. That’s all.”

Her brows furrowed in worry. “But Grandma said you’re leaving Daddy.” Her voice broke, and tears welled in her eyes.

My stomach twisted. Of course, it was Ethan’s mother. Mrs. Neveah Rivera. The woman’s disdain for me was no secret. From the moment Ethan and I started dating, she’d made it her mission to undermine me. In her eyes, I was a “lowlife commoner” who’d seduced her son to steal their family’s fortune.

“I’m not leaving anyone,” I whispered, wiping Autumn’s tears with her tiny hands. “Now, let’s get you back to sleep, okay?”

She nodded, snuggling back into her pillow as her eyelids drooped. I stayed for a moment, smoothing her hair until her breathing deepened. Switching off her bedside lamp, I slipped out of the room.

The master bedroom was cold and uninviting, the tension from earlier still hanging in the air. Ethan lay motionless on his side of the bed, his back turned to me. I dropped my purse on the table and changed into my nightgown. Sliding under the covers, I hesitated before scooting closer to him.

“I know you’re mad at me, Ethan,” I began softly. “But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things.”

Silence.

I sighed. “Please, don’t give me the silent treatment. We’ve been through worse, Ethan. We’ll get through this too.” I reached out, wrapping my arms around his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Still nothing.

A cold dread crept into my chest. “Ethan?” My hand brushed against something damp and sticky on his shirt. Confused, I pulled back and looked down. A dark stain spread across the fabric.

Panic surged as I fumbled for the bedside lamp. The light flickered on, revealing the horror before me. Ethan lay still, his chest soaked in blood. A penknife protruded from his heart, its blade glinting cruelly under the light. My breath hitched, and a scream tore from my throat.

“What’s going on?” A sharp voice called out.

Mrs. Neveah appeared in the doorway, her eyes narrowing as they fell on Ethan’s lifeless body. Her scream was shrill and accusing. “You killed my son!”

Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. “No! I didn’t—I could never—” My voice broke into sobs, the words choking in my throat.

“Get out of this house!” she shrieked. “Now!”

I couldn’t move, frozen by shock and grief. She stormed out, her voice echoing down the halls. “I’m calling 911!”

I turned back to Ethan, gripping his cold hand as if I could will him back to life. My mind reeled. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. I clutched his hand tighter, whispering his name, begging him to wake up. The wail of sirens in the distance snapped me back to reality.

Mrs. Neveah returned, her face twisted in fury. “I knew this day would come. You—you gold-digging murderer!”

“Please,” I sobbed, falling to my knees. “You have to believe me. I didn’t do this.”

“Save it for the police,” she spat, stepping back as heavy footsteps approached.

The officers entered, their presence filling the room with an air of authority. They took one look at the scene and moved swiftly.

“Ma’am, step away from the body,” one of them ordered.

I raised my trembling hands, my voice barely a whisper. “Please, I didn’t do this. Someone else must have—”

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” he said, his tone mechanical as he read me my rights. The cold steel of handcuffs bit into my wrists.

“Mommy!” Autumn’s terrified scream pierced the chaos. She stood at the top of the stairs, her small hands gripping the banister. Tears streamed down her face as she ran toward me.

“Autumn, no!” Mrs. Neveah intercepted her, pulling her back. “Get away from her!”

“Let me talk to my daughter!” I cried, struggling against the officers. “Please, she needs to know I didn’t do this!”

But they dragged me toward the door, my protests falling on deaf ears. Autumn broke free, chasing after us, her tiny footsteps echoing in the hallway.

“Mommy!” she wailed, her voice cracking with desperation. She tripped on the stone steps as the officers shoved me into the back of the police van. I pressed my face against the cold metal bars, watching her small figure crumble to the ground.

“Autumn!” I screamed, my voice raw and broken as the van pulled away. Her cries faded into the distance, leaving an unbearable silence in their wake.