Chapter 5 - The Tables TurnThe flashing red and blue lights of multiple police cruisers illuminated the misty cliffside, casting eerie, dancing shadows across the wet rocks. Officers poured out of the vehicles, led by a stern-faced detective who immediately recognized the scene from the emergency alert pinged by Arthur’s encrypted transmission device.
— Arthur Vance? Are you alright? — Detective Vance called out, his hand resting on his holster as he approached the group.
— I’ve never been better, Detective, — Arthur replied calmly, turning to face the authorities. He gestured toward Clara and Mark. — I want to press charges for attempted first-degree murder, conspiracy, and extortion. I have the audio confession right here on this device, along with two years of financial surveillance proving they were systematically poisoning my evening tea with neurotoxin to induce temporary muscle weakness.
Mark lunged forward in a desperate, suicidal fury, aiming to tackle Arthur off the edge and drag him down into the abyss with him.
— You son of a bitch! — Mark screamed.
Before Mark could take two steps, three police officers swarmed him, slamming him violently onto the wet gravel and snapping heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists.
Clara watched in a catatonic daze as officers hauled Mark away, kicking and screaming obscenities into the mountain air. Another female officer stepped forward, grabbing Clara by the arms and jerking her roughly to her feet.
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— Clara Vance, you have the right to remain silent... — the officer’s voice droned on, a rhythmic death knell to Clara’s dreams of wealth and power.
As Clara was being pushed toward the squad cars, she locked eyes with Arthur one last time. He didn't look angry. He didn't look triumphant. He looked completely, hauntingly indifferent—which, to Clara, was infinitely worse than any rage.
