Chapter 7 - The Deadly Confrontation
I took the glass of warm cider from his hands, pretending to take a massive sip while actually letting the liquid spill into my thick scarf.
Julian watched me intently, a sick, satisfied smile slowly spreading across his handsome, heavily calculated face.
"You have been such a wonderful wife," he murmured softly, stepping closer to me until I could feel his body heat.
"It truly is a massive shame that childbirth is so incredibly dangerous for fragile women with weak hearts."
He was officially confessing, completely confident that the heavy sedatives were already shutting down my nervous system.
I purposely let the glass slip from my hands, shattering completely against the heavy, rustic wooden floorboards.
I stumbled backward, feigning extreme dizziness, and collapsed onto the large leather sofa near the blazing fireplace.
"Julian, I feel so incredibly strange," I slurred, perfectly mimicking the symptoms of the powerful drugs he had been feeding me.
Julian stopped pretending completely, his charming smile vanishing into a mask of pure, absolute, horrifying evil.
He walked over to his heavy duffel bag and pulled out a thick, industrial-grade rope and a roll of heavy silver duct tape.
"You see, darling, your trust fund is absolutely massive, but your sudden questions at the bank forced my hand early," he explained calmly.
He walked toward me with the rope, entirely expecting me to be a completely limp, helpless ragdoll.
But I was not sedated, and I was absolutely not going to let this monster steal my beautiful daughter's future.
As he reached down to grab my wrists, I grabbed the heavy, iron fire poker resting directly beside the leather sofa.
With every single ounce of strength fueled by pure, maternal rage, I swung the iron rod directly at his arrogant face.
The heavy metal connected with his jaw with a sickening, incredibly loud crack that echoed through the entire cabin.
Julian screamed in absolute agony, stumbling backward and dropping the thick rope onto the wooden floor.
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I scrambled to my feet, heavily clutching my pregnant stomach, and bolted toward the heavy front door.
I had officially ignited a war for my survival, and there was absolutely no turning back now.
