Chapter 6 - THE TRAP IS SPRUNG
At 2:00 AM, Victoria and Julian arrived at an abandoned warehouse near the city docks. Rain poured heavily from the black sky, thunder crashing overhead.
Victoria was clutching a leather folder with maps of Elena’s penthouse building, her hands shaking with toxic excitement. Julian stood beside her, terrified, pulling his hood up to hide from the rain.
"Mother, this feels wrong," Julian pleaded. "Let's just take whatever money we have left and run to South America."
"Shut up, you coward!" Victoria snarled. "Tonight, we take our revenge!"
The heavy steel doors of the warehouse creaked open. Victoria stepped inside, expecting to see a group of masked, heavily armed mercenaries.
Instead, the warehouse lit up with blinding white floodlights.
Victoria and Julian shielded their eyes, gasping. Standing in the center of the vast, empty room, surrounded by dozens of armed police officers and federal agents, was Elena.
Beside her stood the Police Chief and the District Attorney.
"Welcome, Victoria," Elena’s voice echoed through the industrial hall, amplified by the high ceilings. "I see you brought the payment details for my assassination."
Victoria dropped the leather folder, her face turning ghost-white. "No... no, this is a mistake! We were just meeting a friend!"
"Save it, Victoria," the District Attorney stepped forward, pulling out a pair of handcuffs. "We recorded the darknet transaction, the IP routing from your motel room, and the audio from your encrypted phone calls. You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit first-degree murder."
Julian fell backward into a puddle on the floor, weeping hysterically. "I didn't know! I didn't want any of this! It was all her! My mother did it! arrest her, not me!"
Victoria turned on her son in absolute disbelief. "Julian?! You spineless worm! I did this for YOU!"
"You ruined my life!" Julian shrieked at his mother, scrambling on his hands and knees toward Elena. "Elena! Please! You hear him? I didn't hire the hitmen! I told her to stop! I love you! Please tell the police to let me go!"
Elena walked down from the raised platform, her heels clicking softly against the concrete floor until she stopped right in front of Julian.
She looked down at him—a man reduced to a sniveling, begging shell of himself, blaming his own mother to save his own skin.
"Do you remember what you said to me three nights ago, Julian?" Elena asked softly.
Julian wiped blood and mud from his nose, looking up with wide, hopeful eyes. "What? What did I say?"
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"'She comes from a low-class background,'" Elena repeated, her voice cutting like glass. "You thought 'class' meant money, mansions, and designer clothes. But class is about honor, loyalty, and integrity. You and your mother were born in luxury, yet you are the lowest-class human beings I have ever met."
She looked at the police officers. "Take them both away."
