Chapter 8 - Fire and Ice
Greg fired a wild shot. The bullet shattered a vase next to my head, raining ceramic shards over my shoulders.
Marcus returned fire, two controlled bursts that hit Greg in the shoulder and leg. Greg screamed, dropping the gun and collapsing onto the Persian rug.
I rushed forward, ignoring the flames, and reached into the fireplace with a fire poker—the exact same tool he had used to beat my mother. I dragged a thick, leather-bound ledger out of the fire before it could be consumed.
I kicked Greg's gun away and stood over him. He was bleeding, pathetic, and clutching his leg.
"It's over, Greg," I said, my voice eerily calm.
I opened the scorched ledger. It was my father's meticulous record-keeping. But hidden inside the pages were printed emails. Emails between Greg, Claire, and the Vegas syndicate, detailing exactly how they planned to systematically poison my mother with incorrect medication dosages to induce a stroke, making her mentally incompetent so they could seize the property.
It wasn't just fraud. It was attempted murder.
May you like
"You're not just going away for assault," I whispered, showing him the emails. "You're going away for life."
Suddenly, the sound of a screeching car echoed from the driveway.
