Chapter 5 - The Confrontation
Beckett’s perfect smile was firmly in place, but his eyes were cold and dead. The two thugs flanked him, their hands resting inside their coats, silently telegraphing the weapons they carried. David Vance was trembling violently on the sofa, practically dissolving into the upholstery.
"Beckett," I said, my voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins. "I see you brought your babysitters. Afraid to face a retired woman on your own?"
He chuckled, stepping further into the room. "You're not just a retired woman, Evelyn. You're a nuisance. I tried to do this the easy way. I tried to let Clara go quietly into an institution. But you had to start digging. You just couldn't accept that your daughter is a broken, hysterical mess."
"She was unbroken until she met you," I retorted, subtly shifting my weight, my right hand inching closer to the heavy fabric of my coat pocket where my revolver rested.
"She was weak," Beckett sneered, his mask slipping for a fraction of a second, revealing the ugly, arrogant monster beneath. "She was perfectly pliable. A beautiful, naive little rich girl with a dead father and a mother who was always too busy working. She was the perfect cover for my business. Who suspects the devoted husband of a fragile, weeping willow?"
He turned to David. "I told you she would come to you, Dave. You're pathetic."
Beckett gestured to his men. "Handle them. Make it look like a robbery gone wrong. Take the files."
As the two men moved forward, my decades of training took over. I didn't hesitate. I drew the revolver and fired a warning shot directly into the priceless Ming vase next to Beckett's head. The deafening crack of the gunshot echoed through the penthouse, shattering the glass and showering Beckett with ceramic shards.
The two thugs froze, their hands hovering over their weapons, clearly not expecting an older woman to be packing a .38 Special and willing to use it.
"Next one goes in your kneecap, Beckett!" I barked, keeping the gun leveled at his chest with a two-handed grip. "Tell your boys to back off, or you're not walking out of here. And we both know the Bratva won't have much use for a cripple who brings police attention to their money."
Beckett’s eyes widened in genuine shock. He had underestimated me. He had bought into his own lie—that I was just a grieving, guilty widow.
"Stand down," he hissed to his men, holding his hands up slowly. The smugness was gone, replaced by a venomous rage. "You're crazy, Evelyn. You shoot me, you go to prison for the rest of your life. And Clara will be left all alone."
"I shoot you, it's self-defense against a home invasion," I replied coldly. "Now, kick your weapons over. Slowly."
After disarming the thugs, I forced them and Beckett against the wall. I grabbed David by the collar. "The cabin address. Now."
David, crying in sheer terror, scribbled the address on a napkin and shoved it into my hand. I backed toward the door, keeping my gun trained on Beckett.
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"This isn't over, Evelyn," Beckett spat, his face twisted in fury. "You can't hide her forever. And you can't beat me in court. I own this city."
"You own nothing," I said, stepping into the elevator. "And I don't need to beat you in court. I just need to expose you." The elevator doors slid shut, separating me from the monster who had ruined my daughter’s life. I had the location of the server. The real war was about to begin.
