Chapter 5 - Unravelling Truths
Z
The silenced shot tore through the air, shattering a wooden crate inches from my head. Splinters sprayed across my face, but I didn't flinch. I dove behind a heavy forklift as two more rounds slammed into the metal chassis.
"You should have stayed in your office, Whitaker!" Vance shouted, his footsteps echoing against the concrete floor as he moved around my cover. "You were supposed to die in that car with Madeline! It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble!"
"She was a mother!" I yelled back, my voice echoing off the high ceilings. "She had twin three-year-old girls in the back seat! You ran them off the road for money!"
"Business is business!" Vance sneered, his shadow lengthening against the wall as he flanked my position. "Patricia offered me ten million dollars to make sure that car didn't reach the estate that night. Madeline found out about Patricia’s embezzlement from the family trust. She was going to tell you! We couldn't let that happen!"
Behind the forklift, my stomach churned. Madeline hadn't just been an innocent casualty—she had discovered Patricia’s betrayal and was driving home to tell me when they took her life. She died trying to protect our family's future.
"You're a monster, Vance!" I called out, tracking the sound of his heavy boots against the wet concrete.
"I'm a businessman who finishes his jobs!" Vance shouted, stepping around the edge of the forklift, raising his gun directly at my chest.
Before he could pull the trigger, the glass skylights above the warehouse shattered in a deafening roar. High-intensity flashbang grenades rained down from the ceiling, exploding in blinding flashes of white light and thunderous booms.
Vance staggered backward, clutching his eyes and screaming as the tactical police unit descended on ropes from the roof beams. "Police! Drop your weapons! Drop them now!"
Tactical officers swarmed the floor, laser sights painting Vance’s chest. Vance dropped his pistol, collapsing to his knees with his hands behind his head. Upstairs on the mezzanine, Patricia tried to scramble toward a fire exit, but two officers kicked the door open, slamming her against the wall and snapping steel handcuffs onto her wrists.
Mateo rushed into the warehouse alongside the police chief, stepping over the broken glass toward me. "You alright, Ethan?"
I wiped a mixture of rain and sweat from my forehead, staring down at Vance as he was dragged away in chains. Patricia was brought down the stairs, her makeup ruined by tears, her expensive clothes disheveled. She looked at me with a desperate, pleading expression.
"Ethan, please!" she sobbed. "He forced me! Vance threatened me! I loved Madeline! I love the girls!"
I walked up to her, staring into the eyes of the woman who had sat in my drawing room, drinking my wine, and pretending to care for my motherless children.
"Do not ever speak my wife's name again," I said, my voice cold enough to freeze blood. "You will spend the rest of your miserable life in a maximum-security prison cell. And you will never, ever see my daughters again."
I turned my back on her as the officers dragged her out into the rain.
Mateo placed a hand on my shoulder. "It's over, Ethan. The police found the original maintenance logs and GPS tracking files in Vance's office computer. It places his truck at the exact coordinates of Madeline’s crash. They're both going away for first-degree murder."
May you like
I looked at my watch. It was nearly 1:00 AM. The nightmare of the past two years was finally unraveling, but my heart wasn't at the warehouse. It was back at the estate.
"I need to go home," I said quietly. "My daughters are waiting."
