Chapter 8 - The Confession
I needed to buy time. I discreetly reached into my pocket and hit the master broadcast button on my phone, linking my microphone to every outdoor speaker on the Atherton estate.
“So that’s it?” I asked loudly. “You murdered your own husband, you poisoned your daughter, and now you’re kidnapping your granddaughter? For what? A trust fund?”
“For respect!” Beatrice screamed, the speakers echoing her voice across the property. “I spent thirty years married to a weak man, scraping by in upper-middle-class mediocrity! Emily owes me this! I gave her life! The money belongs to me. I will raise Chloe to appreciate true power, not the soft, pathetic life you’ve given her.”
“You’re a monster,” I said.
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“I’m a survivor,” she corrected, cocking the hammer of the revolver. “And you’re out of time.”
Suddenly, the roar of a high-performance engine shattered the morning air. Marcus, my head of security, slammed my armored SUV straight through the front security gates, sending wrought iron flying into the grass. He hadn't been bought. He had been staging outside, waiting for my signal.
