Chapter 5 - The Countdown to Ruin
The silence in the room was deafening. The wealthy guests, people who prided themselves on their status and connections, were staring at me as if I had just morphed into a dragon.
Irving began to shake. His entire plan—the kidnapping, the torture, the impending murder—was all for absolutely nothing.
"Liar," Irving whispered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his terror. "You're lying. This is a trick!"
"Let's see who's lying," I said, pressing 'Play' on my phone.
Through the premium surround-sound speakers built into the ceiling, the audio from the basement began to play.
“One last chance, sweetheart. Sign the papers tonight, and we can all finally get some rest.”
Sabrina’s voice echoed clearly through the lavish room.
“I’m not signing.”
Wyatt's weak, strained voice followed. Then, the horrific, gut-wrenching sound of Wyatt screaming in absolute agony as Sabrina crushed his shattered knee.
“Then we'll just keep practicing until your hand learns to obey.”
Several guests shrieked. One woman dropped her glass, shattering it over the expensive rug. A man rushed toward the front door, only to find the deadbolts magnetically locked.
"You monsters," one of the guests whispered, backing away from Irving and Piper.
Irving panicked. He lunged at me, raising his fists, desperate to silence the man who had just destroyed his life.
He didn't even make it halfway.
Marcus materialized from the hallway like a shadow. He sidestepped Irving's clumsy punch, grabbed him by the collar and belt, and slammed him violently onto the glass coffee table. The glass didn't break, but Irving's breath left him in a loud gasp as Marcus pinned him down.
Just then, the sound of police sirens wailed in the distance, rapidly growing closer.
The basement door swung open again. Two of Marcus's men hauled Sabrina up the stairs. She was no longer wearing her smug smile. Her designer dress was covered in basement dust, her makeup was smeared with tears, and her wrists were zip-tied.
Piper screamed at the sight of her daughter and rushed forward, but a stern look from Marcus stopped her in her tracks.
"Take off that coat," I told Piper. My voice was calm, but the menace behind it was absolute. "My wife was a kind, honest woman who worked hard for everything she had. You don't have the right to wear her memory."
Piper, trembling and sobbing, hastily took off the coat and dropped it onto a chair.
Red and blue lights began flashing through the tiny gaps in the security shutters. Heavy pounding echoed on the front door.
Marcus tapped his tablet, unlocking the front entrance.
A dozen armed police officers swarmed into the house, weapons drawn. But they didn't point them at me or my men. Marcus had already provided the chief of police with the audio recording and the security footage of what was happening in the basement.
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"Irving Palmer, Sabrina Palmer, Piper Palmer," the lead detective announced, stepping over the spilled champagne. "You are all under arrest for kidnapping, extortion, and attempted murder."
As the police dragged them out in handcuffs past their horrified, high-society friends, Sabrina looked back at me. There was no defiance left in her eyes. Only the crushing realization that she had thrown her life away for an illusion.
