Chapter 11 - The House of Cards Falls
Marco stared at the girl holding onto him.
He rubbed his eyes, thinking he was trapped in a cruel nightmare.
“Isabella?” he breathed, his voice trembling violently.
“It's me, Papa,” she cried, burying her face in his chest.
Marco looked up.
He saw the shattered glass.
He saw Elena bleeding on the floor.
And he saw his wife, Valentina, holding a smoking handgun.
The absolute shock on his face instantly melted into a terrifying, cold rage.
“Put the gun down, Valentina,” Marco said.
His voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of an earthquake.
Valentina’s hands shook.
The mask of the perfect wife had completely shattered.
“Marco, darling, listen to me,” she stammered, frantically trying to lie.
“This girl is an imposter! It’s a scam!”
“This maid hired an actress to steal our money! Our Isabella is dead, you know this!”
Marco looked down at the girl trembling in his arms.
He looked at her eyes. Her birthmark.
He felt the way she held onto his shirt—the exact same way she did when she was five.
A father knows his child.
“You told me she died in the hospital,” Marco whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks.
“You brought me an urn full of ashes.”
“Marco, please!” Valentina begged, taking a step forward.
“Drop the gun,” Marco roared, stepping in front of his daughter to shield her.
At that moment, the front doors of the mansion burst open.
Flashing red and blue lights illuminated the massive foyer below.
Police officers swarmed into the house, guns drawn.
Behind them walked Mr. Harrison, looking exhausted but finally at peace.
He had used Valentina’s distraction to slip away and make the call.
“Drop the weapon! Hands in the air!” the lead officer shouted up the stairs.
Valentina looked at the police.
She looked at Marco, whose eyes held nothing but pure hatred for her.
She looked at Isabella, the ultimate prize she had just lost.
Slowly, her shoulders slumped.
The gun slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the marble floor.
She raised her hands in defeat.
Two officers rushed up the stairs and slammed her against the wall, cuffing her wrists tightly.
As they dragged her away, Valentina glared at Elena one last time.
But she said nothing.
The reign of terror was over.
Marco dropped to his knees, pulling Isabella into a desperate, crushing hug.
He sobbed openly, burying his face in her hair, apologizing over and over again.
Elena sat up slowly, wiping the blood from her lip.
She smiled through the pain.
She had done it.
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The lie was broken.
The monster was caged.
