Chapter 5 - The Truth in the Ashes“Don't move an inch, Vance,” I growled, taking a step forward, the muzzle of my Beretta locking onto the center of his chest. My finger tightened on the trigger, every instinct screaming to pull it, to wipe this monster off the face of the earth.
Vance didn't even flinch. He just smiled, a sickening, arrogant curve of his lips.
“Go ahead, Julian. Shoot me,” Vance taunt-whispered, spreading his arms wide. “If you pull that trigger, the digital dead-man switch wired to my encrypted tablet will automatically transmit every single document regarding your offshore accounts, your corporate tax evasion, and the illegal bribes you paid to secure your empire straight to the Department of Justice and every major media outlet in the country. Within sixty seconds, your frozen assets will vanish, your company will burn, and these two little girls will be thrown into the state foster care system before sunrise. Do you really want to orphans them twice in one night?”
I froze. The hammer of the gun felt impossibly heavy. He had me checkmate. If I killed him, I destroyed my daughters' future. If I let him live, I risked everything.
“You’re a coward,” I spat, my voice shaking with suppressed rage.
“I’m a survivor,” Vance corrected smoothly, lowering his weapon slightly. “Just like your new nanny here. Speaking of which… haven't you wondered why Elise Navarro applied for this exact job three weeks ago?”
My eyes flicked sideways toward Elise, who stood just behind my shoulder in the shadows. Her face was deathly pale, her knuckles bleeding slightly where she had gripped the fireplace poker, her dark eyes locked onto Vance with a venom so pure it could have melted steel.
“Vance,” Elise whispered, her voice cracking with a lifetime of buried trauma.
“Ah, the art gallery girl,” Vance laughed softly, shaking his head. “I told your father to sign the lease over, Elise. I told him the municipal district needed redevelopment. But he refused. He thought a little local fire would make a statement. Too bad he and your mother were trapped inside when the wiring malfunctioned. Oh, wait—wasn't an accident, was it? Just like Sarah Caruso’s crash.”
The room seemed to tilt sideways.
I looked back at Elise, my mind racing through the impossible puzzle pieces. The Aethel Art Gallery fire. Three months ago. Her father’s wrongful death lawsuit.
“You...” I breathed, looking between Vance and the young woman beside me. “You didn't apply for this job by accident.”
“No,” Elise said, her voice dropping an octave into a cold, lethal calm as she slowly reached into the deep pocket of her trench coat. “I didn't.”
Before Vance could raise his weapon, Elise’s hand emerged from her coat, clutching not a gun, but a heavy, military-grade tactical taser. With terrifying speed, she lunged past me, closing the distance between them before Vance could react.
ZZZZZT!
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The high-voltage prongs struck Vance squarely in the shoulder. The billionaire criminal let out an inhuman shriek as fifty thousand volts of electricity surged through his tailored suit, seizing every muscle in his body. His eyes rolled back, his weapon slipped from his numb fingers, and he crashed hard against the nursery wall before sliding limply onto the floor.
He was completely unconscious.
