Chapter 4 - THE TRAP SPRUNG
One hour later, the doorbell of Wyatt’s penthouse chimed.
Wyatt wasn't there—he was hiding in the adjacent monitoring room alongside Detective Vance, three federal agents from the Adult Protective Services division, and two armed officers.
I sat alone on the white leather couch, wearing a loose silk robe, my bandages stark and shocking against the dim lighting of the room.
The door opened. My father, Gregory, walked in first, wearing a tailored suit. Behind him was my mother, Brenda, dripping in fake pearls, and Melanie, who was practically glowing with smug satisfaction. She was wearing a red dress—the exact color of the blood I had spilled on their driveway.
"Sadie, darling," my mother cooed, walking over with open arms as if she hadn't laughed while my skull was cracked open. "Look at you... oh, you poor thing. Your face... it’s such a tragedy."
"Don't touch me," I rasped, leaning away.
My father didn't bother with fake affection. He pulled a thick leather portfolio from his briefcase and slapped it onto the glass coffee table in front of me.
"Let's skip the theatricals, Sadie," Gregory said coldly, sitting across from me. "Wyatt has moved on. You’re disfigured, you have no job, and your medical bills are going to stack up into hundreds of thousands. You can't live alone."
"You did this to me," I whispered, staring directly into his cold, dead eyes. "You hit me with a brick."
"It was an accident during a chaotic moment," my father said smoothly, without a shred of remorse. "And if you know what's good for you, that is the exact story you will tell the judge when the hearing comes up. Otherwise, I’ll ensure you don't receive a dime of assistance from anyone."
Melanie walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, admiring the view of the city skyline. "It’s a nice apartment. Wyatt has great taste. Don't worry, Sadie, once we get married, I’ll let you stay in the guest house on his estate."
"You're disgusting," I spat.
"Enough," Gregory snapped, opening the portfolio and pushing a pen into my hand. "These documents grant your mother and me legal guardianship and full power of attorney over your medical and financial affairs. Sign them now, and we’ll pay for your facial reconstruction surgeries."
I looked at the documents. Tucked near the back was a transfer deed for the Charles Vance-Davis Revocable Trust. They were trying to get me to sign away my $35 million inheritance without even knowing it existed.
"What's this page?" I asked, pointing with a shaking finger. "The trust page?"
Gregory’s eyes flashed with a flicker of panic, but he quickly covered it. "Just standard legal jargon required for state aid. Sign it."
"Does Grandfather Charles know you're taking his money?" I asked quietly.
The air in the room instantly turned to liquid nitrogen.
Brenda gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Gregory froze, his jaw tightening so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. Melanie turned around from the window, her smug smile vanishing instantly.
"What did you just say?" Gregory asked, his voice dropping an octave, sounding dangerously dark.
"I said," I repeated, looking him dead in the eye, "does my grandfather—the man you’ve kept locked in your attic for thirty years—know you're forcing me to sign away the thirty-five million dollars he left to me?"
Gregory stood up violently, knocking his chair backward. "Who told you about that?!"
"I saw him, Dad," I said, standing up to face him, ignoring the burning pain in my cheek. "I saw him standing at the upstairs window while I was bleeding on your porch. I saw the terror in his face. You didn't just try to destroy my life—you stole his."
Gregory’s face twisted into a mask of pure, unadulterated rage. He stepped forward, raising his heavy hand just like he had on the sidewalk. "You ungrateful little bitch! I gave you life, and you will sign those papers or I will finish what I started—"
He reached out to grab my throat.
"POLICE! DON'T MOVE!"
The doors to the side room burst open. Four armed federal officers and Detective Vance charged into the room, guns drawn and aimed straight at my father's chest.
"GET ON THE GROUND! NOW!" Vance screamed.
Brenda shrieked, dropping her purse as cash and forged legal documents spilled across the floor. Melanie screamed in terror, backing up against the glass window as officers shoved her against the wall and slapped handcuffs on her wrists.
Gregory tried to pull back, but two federal agents tackled him to the carpet, pinning his arms behind his back.
"Gregory Davis," Detective Vance announced loudly over my father’s furious curses, "you are under arrest for attempted murder, aggravated assault, grand larceny, elder abuse, and human trafficking."
As my father was slammed against the floor, his eyes met mine. For the first time in my life, I saw fear in his face.
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And standing right behind the police officers, stepping into the room with a look of absolute devotion, was Wyatt. He walked past my screaming mother and sister, pulled me into his arms, and held me tightly against his chest.
"It's over, Sadie," Wyatt whispered, kissing the top of my bandaged head. "It's over."
