Chapter 6 - The Siege at Dawn"How is she out on bail?!" Daniel roared, slamming his fist onto Arthur’s desk so hard the heavy lamp rattled. "She was charged with felony assault! The judge denied bail!"
"A corrupt circuit judge with ties to her old social circle granted an emergency release hearing this morning while we were in conference," Arthur said, his face draining of color as he scrambled for his phone. "She’s violating her restraining order. Call the police—now!"
On my phone screen, the live security feed showed Linda pressing the keypad code to our front door. Beep-beep-beep-click.
She had used Megan’s old master code—one we had foolishly forgotten to purge from the system in the chaos of the move.
"Daniel, she’s inside," I whispered, panic seizing my throat. My hand instinctively flew to my abdomen, where the scar still ached at the memory of her blow. "She’s in the house."
"We’re going," Daniel said, grabbing his car keys off the desk with trembling hands. "Arthur, call SWAT, call the local precinct, tell them a violent, fugitive felon has breached our residence."
We didn't wait for Arthur to finish dialing. We sprinted down the private elevators and into Daniel’s SUV, tearing through the rainy Charleston streets at breakneck speed, our tires hissing against the slick asphalt. Every red light was a blur, every second ticking away like a bomb countdown.
When we pulled up to our historic home ten minutes later, the rain was coming down in sheets.
The front door was standing wide open. Inside, the house was deathly quiet.
"Stay behind me," Daniel whispered fiercely, drawing a heavy brass fireplace poker he had grabbed from the entryway console. His jaw was locked, his eyes burning with a terrifying mix of grief, rage, and protective fury.
We crept into the foyer. The hardwood floor beneath our feet creaked softly.
"Linda!" Daniel shouted into the empty hallway. "Get out of our house right now! The police are five minutes away!"
A dry, cracked laugh echoed from the dimly lit kitchen down the hall.
"The police?" Linda’s voice drifted out, dripping with venom and manic hysteria. "Do you think I care about police anymore, Daniel? You took everything from me. My home, my status, my life's work! You handed it over to this—this parasite!"
We moved cautiously toward the kitchen archway.
There she stood. Linda was holding a heavy silver candlestick in one hand and a small, antique glass bottle in the other—the exact same digitalis poison she had used to murder her husband. The kitchen counter was littered with open pill bottles and two glasses of water.
"Are you insane?" Daniel yelled, stepping into the kitchen with the poker raised. "You killed my father, Linda! Arthur has the autopsy report! It's over!"
Linda didn't flinch. Instead, a twisted, pathetic smile crept across her face.
"He was weak," she whispered coldly. "Just like your father, just like Megan, and just like you, Daniel. You think you can destroy me? I built the Whitmore name with my bare hands!"
May you like
She suddenly lunged forward, not toward Daniel, but straight toward me, uncorking the glass bottle with her teeth, sending a spray of bitter liquid flying through the air.
"If I can't have it, nobody will!" she shrieked.
