Chapter 8 - A MOTHER’S FINAL SECRET
Before Richard could pull the trigger, a sharp, metallic CLICK echoed from the dark balcony above the library.
“Put the gun down, Richard,” a raspy, weak, yet commanding voice called out from the shadows.
Everyone looked up. Standing on the upper mezzanine, holding a vintage double-barreled shotgun aimed squarely at Richard Vance’s head, was Eleanor Vance. She was dressed in her hospital gown, a portable oxygen unit slung over her shoulder, her face pale but her hands rock-steady.
“Mother!” Helena gasped.
“Eleanor?” Richard stammered, his confidence faltering for the first time. “How are you even standing? The digitalis—”
“The doctors at St. Jude’s were hired by me three years ago, Richard,” Eleanor said, her voice dripping with ice as she stepped into the moonlight. “I knew you’d try to poison me the moment Helena got close to Adrian. I swapped the IV bags before your little hitwoman ever set foot in my room.”
Eleanor racked the slide of the shotgun with a sharp, terrifying sound. “You took my husband. You tried to ruin my daughter. But you forgot one thing about women who have survived the flames: we don't burn easily.”
Down in the driveway, sirens suddenly wailed through the night air. Red and blue lights flashed through the high library windows as dozens of police cruisers and federal vehicles surrounded Blackwood Manor.
Richard’s armed guards immediately dropped their weapons, raising their hands in surrender.
“It’s over, Richard,” Adrian said, stepping forward and ripping the silver gun from Richard’s trembling grip. “Federal agents have already seized your accounts. Your daughter is in a holding cell, and you are going away for the rest of your life.”
Richard collapsed to his knees on the dusty floor, sobbing as police officers rushed into the room, slapping heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists.
As the officers dragged Richard away, Eleanor slowly lowered the shotgun. Her body trembled with exhaustion, and she collapsed toward the railing. Helena and Adrian rushed up the stairs, catching her just before she fell.
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“Mother!” Helena cried, holding her tight. “You shouldn't have risked your life!”
Eleanor smiled faintly, touching her daughter’s cheek with a fragile hand. “I didn't risk my life, my darling... I completed my work. The truth is finally free.”
