As the morning progressed, uniformed officers began their door-to-door inquiries. One of them, Officer Davies, eventually made his way across the street to Elara's home. He knocked gently on her front door.

Elara opened it, a look of polite inquiry on her face. She still clutched a mug of coffee, though it was now cold.

"Morning, ma'am," Officer Davies began, his tone professional but sympathetic. "Officer Davies, Morrisonville PD. I'm sorry to bother you, but we're investigating an incident across the street at Mr. Henderson's residence. Did you happen to hear or see anything unusual last night?"

Elara blinked, her expression shifting to one of mild surprise, expertly masking the sudden chill that snaked down her spine. She kept her voice even, a practiced calm she hadn't known she possessed. "Oh, my goodness. Mr. Henderson? Is everything alright?" She paused, feigning concern. "I heard a few sirens very late, but I just assumed it was a car accident or something down the road. Nothing here. My son and I were asleep. No, I'm afraid I didn't see or hear anything unusual at all." Officer Davies nodded, scribbling a note on his pad. "Alright, ma'am. Thank you for your time. If you happen to recall anything, no matter how small, please don't hesitate to call the station."

"Of course," Elara said, offering a small, tight smile. "I hope Mr. Henderson is okay."

She closed the door slowly, her hand lingering on the cold wood. Her perfect son. Her perfect, horrifying life.

Elara pressed her back against the door, feeling the grain bite into her shoulder blades. She listened for a moment to the officer's retreating footsteps—calm, measured, unhurried. She let herself exhale slowly. Her hands trembled so badly she had to set the coffee mug down before it shattered on the tile. The sound of Finn's quiet humming, drifting from the kitchen, wound itself tight around her ribcage.

She found him at the sink, scrubbing a skillet with circular, patient strokes. He had rolled up the sleeves of his t-shirt. His forearms looked oddly adult. The hum was that same unfamiliar melody—a tune she couldn't place, but that stuck in the folds of her brain like the taste of old gum. He glanced over his shoulder when she entered, and the look he gave her was somehow both endearing and alien: like a child being good and waiting for his gold star.

"Who was that?" Finn asked while scrubbing the skillet with precision.

"Oh, just an officer at the door." Elara explained, "Just wanted to know if I knew anything about Mr. Henderson, is all

Finn shut off the tap, setting the skillet in the rack with a small clink. He dried his hands, moving with that same precise grace, and turned to face Elara. "Did they say what happened to him?" His voice was polite, level, l—soothing, even. It made the tiny hairs on her arms stand on end. Finn had always resented Mr. Henderson's petty grievances, but this was... different.

"They didn't say. Just wanted to know if I'd seen or heard anything. I told them no." She tried to sound breezy, even a little exasperated, like some other mother chatting with her son about nosy neighbors and local drama, but her heart was hammered in her chest. Finn watched her, blinking slowly. She'd never noticed before how little he blinked. "That must be upsetting, Mom," he said, and smiled again, the corners of his mouth stretching with careful symmetry.

Elara gave her son a small smile. "Well, I need to get ready for work." She said while walking out of the kitchen to get ready to head out to work. "Okay, Mom. I'll tidy up while you're gone." Elara only smiled at him. "If you say so," Elara said while walking out the door, while her son smiled at her.

In her cubicle, Elara was typing on her computer. Her mind was still etched on what had happened to her neighbor, but she couldn't shake off this uneasy feeling about her son. "Good morning, Elara." Elara flinched, nearly jumping out of her skin as Mr. Jenkins' voice boomed from behind her. She spun around in her chair, her heart leaping into her throat. He stood there, a predatory smile on his face, holding a perfectly bound copy of the market analysis report. The same report she had fallen asleep over, the same report Finn had inexplicably completed. "Oh! Good morning, Mr. Jenkins," Elara stammered, trying to compose herself.

He walked into her cubicle, casually leaning against the partition. "I must say, Elara, I'm thoroughly impressed. This report... It's exceptional. Flawless, even." He tapped the cover with a manicured finger. "To have it submitted so quickly, and with this level of detail and insight... frankly, I didn't think it was possible."

Elara forced a weak smile, her mind racing. "Well, I... I put in a lot of hours, Mr. Jenkins. Really focused." The lie felt heavy on her tongue.

He chuckled, a low, appreciative sound. "Indeed. Such dedication deserves recognition. In fact, I was wondering if you'd be free for dinner tonight? We could discuss some future projects, perhaps we could brainstorm a few ideas over a nice meal. My treat, of course." He looked at her with an intensity that made her deeply uncomfortable.

The invitation hung in the air, thick with unspoken implications. Elara's mind immediately flashed to Finn, to his unnerving attentiveness, to the casual way he had 'taken care' of Mr. Henderson. A cold dread seeped into her. She couldn't risk anything happening to Mr. Jenkins, even if he was a demanding boss. And she certainly couldn't encourage this new, terrifying version of Finn.

"Oh, that's... very kind of you, Mr. Jenkins," Elara said, trying to keep her voice light, though she felt a tremor of fear. "But I'm afraid I can't. I already have plans tonight. Very... important family plans. Thank you for the offer, though." She gave him a tight, polite smile, hoping he would drop it.

Mr. Jenkins' smile faltered for a fraction of a second, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before he smoothly recovered. "Ah, family. Of course. Well, perhaps another time." He gave the report a final, satisfied pat. "Just keep up the excellent work, Elara. This is precisely the kind of initiative we need around here." With a final, lingering look, he turned and walked away, the report still clutched in his hand.

Elara watched him go, a wave of relief washing over her, quickly followed by a renewed surge of fear. She turned back to her computer and continued typing while shaking off the uneasy feeling. As the afternoon wore on, Elara found herself unable to concentrate. The incident with Mr. Henderson, the chilling perfection of Finn, and now Mr. Jenkins' unsettling invitation—it was all too much. She forced herself through the remaining tasks, her fingers flying across the keyboard with a frenetic energy that masked her inner turmoil. Finally, with a sigh of relief, she saw the clock tick past five- Time to go home.

She shut down her computer, gathered her bag, and made her way to the elevator. The office was emptying, a steady stream of coworkers heading for their own commutes. As the elevator doors chimed open on the ground floor, Elara stepped out, eager for the relative sanctuary of her car.

But her path was intercepted. Mr. Jenkins stood near the main entrance, seemingly waiting, a calculating smile on his face. "Leaving so soon, Elara?" he asked, his tone too casual, too familiar.

Elara offered a polite, but strained, smile. "Just finishing up for the day, Mr. Jenkins." She tried to keep walking, but he subtly shifted, blocking her way slightly.

"About that dinner offer," he continued, undeterred. "I really think it would be beneficial for your career. We could discuss the new product launch in a more... relaxed setting. My usual spot, excellent Italian. Say, seven o'clock?" His eyes held a persistent glint that made her skin crawl.

Elara's heart pounded. She imagined Finn, somewhere in her immaculately clean home, perhaps already anticipating her evening meal. She pictured the chilling calm in his eyes, the casual way he'd eliminated Mr. Henderson, and the thought of putting Mr. Jenkins in any potential harm's way, even inadvertently, filled her with dread.

"I appreciate the offer, Mr. Jenkins, truly," Elara said, trying to keep her voice firm, unwavering. "But I really can't. As I mentioned earlier, I have very important family plans tonight. My son... he really needs me home." She emphasized the word 'needs,' hoping to convey a sense of unbreakable obligation, a barrier he wouldn't dare cross.

His smile thinned, a flash of annoyance again crossing his features before he regained his composure. "A shame," he said, his voice a touch cooler now. "But family comes first, I suppose. Just make sure it doesn't detract from your commitment here, Elara. That report was impressive. Don't let your focus waver." He gave her a pointed look, then finally stepped aside.

"Of course, Mr. Jenkins," Elara replied, offering a quick, tight nod. She practically fled from the building, not daring to look back. The evening air, though cool, did little to calm the frantic beat of her heart. She fumbled with her keys, finally unlocking her car door and sliding inside, a fresh wave of fear washing over her. She begins to drive through the road, her eyes glued to the street, and wonders about Henderson. "Finn couldn't have done anything with it, could he? No, don't be crazy. You're just stressed from work. That's all." Elara said to herself with a tinge of hope while driving her way back home through the night.