Chapter 5 - The Showdown
"Give him to me," I said, my voice dead and cold. I took a step forward, but Claire raised the gun, pointing it directly at my forehead.
"Step back, Evelyn! Or I swear to God, I will put a bullet through both of you right now!" Claire screamed, her eyes manic.
I stopped, my hands raised. "Claire, why are you doing this? He’s your nephew. He’s Daniel’s son."
"He’s your son," Claire spat, her face twisting in disgust. "My mother spent her entire life building the Collins name, our reputation, our wealth. She was never going to let a lower-class, trailer-park nobody like you taint our family tree. When Daniel insisted on marrying you, she tolerated it because she thought you were sterile. But then you got pregnant."
"So you decided to murder a child?"
"We decided to correct a mistake," Claire corrected coldly. "The plan was simple. Swap your healthy baby with a terminally ill infant from the ICU whose parents had abandoned him. Let the sick baby die under your care, blame it on your 'weak genetics,' and drive Daniel to divorce you. But that stupid nurse got greedy. She wanted more money, and she threatened to go to the police."
"And what about the poison?" I asked, trying to keep her talking while I looked around the room for any kind of weapon. "Why did Margaret poison the baby in my room?"
"Because Dr. Aris was getting suspicious!" Claire laughed, a high, mocking sound. "He was going to run a routine DNA test because of some minor heart murmur. If he did, the swap would be exposed. Mother had to act fast. If the baby died suddenly of 'natural causes' before the test, the case would be closed. But Daniel... Daniel is an idiot. He almost ruined everything by leaving the vial in his coat."
My blood ran cold. "So Daniel didn't know?"
"Of course he didn't! Daniel is too soft," Claire scoffed. "He actually loved you. He would have never agreed to kill a baby. Mother told him it was just a supplement to make the baby look sick so we could convince you to give him up for adoption. He’s a fool."
As she spoke, I noticed a heavy glass vase sitting on the console table just to my right. It was within arm's reach. But she had a gun pointed at my head.
"And now?" I asked, taking a slow, deep breath. "What are you going to do now, Claire? The police are on their way. Your mother is in handcuffs. You can't escape this."
"Oh, I can," Claire smirked. "I have a passport, a ticket to South America, and fifty thousand dollars of Clara's uncashed bribe money. As for this brat..." She looked down at the crying baby in her arms. "I’ll just leave him in a dumpster on my way to the airport. No one will ever find him."
Anger—hot, blinding, and maternal—exploded inside me.
"NO!" I roared.
I lunged to the right, grabbing the heavy glass vase and hurling it directly at Claire's face.
SMASH!
The vase struck her cheek, shattering into a million pieces. Claire screamed in agony, dropping to her knees as blood poured from a deep gash on her forehead. The gun slipped from her hand, clattering across the hardwood floor.
But she didn't drop the baby. In a desperate, final act of malice, she raised her hand to strike the infant.
"No!" I screamed, diving forward.
I tackled her to the ground, my hands clawing at her face, her hair, her throat. We rolled across the floor, Claire screeching like a wild animal as she tried to gouge my eyes out. My C-section incision ripped completely open, a agonizing burst of pain threatening to black me out, but I refused to stop. I choked her, pinning her arms down with my knees.
"You will never touch my children again!" I screamed, slamming her head against the floor until her eyes rolled back and she went limp.
Breathing heavily, my vision fading at the edges, I crawled over to the blanket bundle on the floor.
I pulled back the fabric.
A pair of bright, dark eyes stared up at me. He let out a tiny, soft whimper. He was alive. He was safe.
"Evan," I sobbed, pulling him to my bare chest. "I’ve got you, baby. Mommy’s got you."
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In the distance, the sirens finally wailed, growing louder and louder until red and blue lights illuminated the dingy living room.
I slumped against the wall, holding my son close, as the police burst through the door.
