Chapter 7 - The Final Confrontation
"You're insane," Lucas whispered, his voice shaking with a mixture of grief, disgust, and pure, unadulterated rage. He gripped his daughter’s hand tighter, pulling her back further as Sarah took another step forward. "You used your own flesh and blood—your own daughter—as a pawn in a sick game of greed?"
"Chloe was an inconvenience, Lucas. Nothing more," Sarah replied coldly, her eyes devoid of any maternal warmth whatsoever. "And now that my little puppets—Marcus and Elena—have been arrested, it's time for me to clean up the mess myself."
From the folds of her velvet gown, Sarah produced a small, sleek black remote control with a blinking red LED light.
Lucas’s blood ran cold. He instantly recognized the device. It was the master wireless controller for the building’s heavy security shutters and industrial fire-suppression system.
"If I can't have Miller Tech and my freedom, nobody gets anything," Sarah hissed, her manicured thumb hovering directly over the red button. "The moment I press this, the automated gas valves will flood this sealed ballroom with halon gas, and the biometric locks on the doors will permanently jam. Within three minutes, everyone inside will be unconscious, and by morning, a convenient electrical fire will erase every single piece of evidence linking me to this corporation."
"Mommy, stop! You're scaring me!" Chloe cried out, tears streaming down her face as she clutched her father’s legs.
For a fraction of a second, Sarah’s expression flickered—a tiny microscopic crack in her icy facade. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by hardened, desperate resolve. "Goodbye, Lucas. Tell the police hello in hell."
Her thumb pressed down hard on the red button.
BEEP.
The emergency lights in the grand ballroom instantly switched from white to a blinding, crimson alarm red. High above them, the heavy steel security shutters began grinding down along the windows with a deafening metallic screech. The air vents hissed loudly as toxic fire-suppression gas began to vent into the room.
Lucas knew he had only seconds to act. If the steel shutters locked into place, they would be trapped in a tomb of their own making.
With a roar of pure adrenaline, Lucas thrust Chloe into the arms of his stunned sister Sarah, who was coughing from the initial wisps of gas. "Take Chloe and get to the service exit! Now!"
"Lucas, you can't—!" Sarah screamed.
"Go!" Lucas bellowed.
Without hesitation, Lucas didn't run toward the door. Instead, he sprinted across the polished marble floor directly toward Sarah—his resurrected, treacherous wife.
Sarah’s eyes widened in panic as Lucas launched himself through the air like a sprinter, tackling her squarely to the ground just as she tried to ready a secondary trigger from her pocket. The remote control flew from her hand, sliding across the slick floor and smashing against the base of the altar into a dozen plastic pieces.
"Get off me, you fool!" Sarah shrieked, scratching and clawing at Lucas’s face with her sharp fingernails.
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Lucas pinned her wrists firmly to the ground, panting heavily as the heavy steel shutters slammed down onto the floor all around them, sealing the room in a dim, crimson-lit cage. The air was growing thin, thick with the chemical haze of the emergency system.
"You're not going anywhere, Sarah," Lucas panted, his face bruised and bleeding from her assault, but his grip unbreakable. "The game is over."
