Chapter 9 - The Final ConfrontationBack upstairs in the master bedroom, Adrian was fighting for his life.
After taking a brutal beating from the second security guard, Adrian had managed to use the heavy brass fireplace poker to disable his attacker, leaving the man unconscious against the mahogany bookshelf.
Adrian wiped blood from his lip, his chest heaving as he stood over the fallen guard. He looked toward the bedroom door. Madison was gone, likely down in the ballroom keeping up appearances while Caleb handled the cleanup in the basement.
Adrian grabbed his phone from the nightstand. His hands were shaking, but he managed to punch in three digits.
“911. What is your emergency?”
“My name is Adrian Westwood,” he said into the phone, his voice hard as steel. “I am reporting a homicide conspiracy, kidnapping, and assault at 414 Crestwood Lane. Send every unit you have. My brother and my ex-fiancée are holding hostages in my home.”
“Sir, units are already en route. Stay where you are.”
Adrian hung up, pocketed the phone, and picked up the heavy brass poker.
Down in the sub-basement boiler room, Caleb stepped closer to Natalie, Rachel, and little Emma, his grip tightening on the steel wrench.
“You really should have stayed upstairs, Nat,” Caleb sneered, taking another step forward. “You always did have a hero complex, just like your dead sister.”
“You’re sick, Caleb,” Natalie spat, standing protectively in front of Rachel and Emma. “You traded your own family for blood money.”
“Business, Natalie. Nothing personal,” Caleb laughed coldly, raising the wrench. “And unfortunately, accidents happen in old houses all the time. A tragic gas leak in the sub-basement... everyone will understand.”
Before Caleb could swing, the heavy iron door behind him banged wide open.
“Drop the wrench, Caleb.”
Adrian’s voice echoed off the damp stone walls like a thunderclap.
Caleb froze, slowly turning his head.
Adrian stood in the doorway, bruised, bleeding, but holding a heavy hunting rifle he had retrieved from the estate’s secure armory upstairs. The barrel was pointed squarely at his brother’s chest.
“Adrian,” Caleb’s smirk faltered, his face turning pale. “Don't be stupid. We’re family—”
“You stopped being my family the moment you helped murder my wife,” Adrian said, stepping forward.
Suddenly, a second figure appeared behind Adrian in the doorway.
Madison Cole.
She wasn't holding a weapon, but her expression was one of pure, venomous desperation. In her hand, she held a heavy glass bottle of industrial cleaning acid she had grabbed from the utility closet.
“If we go down, we’re taking all of you with us!” Madison shrieked, winding her arm back to hurl the acid toward Rachel and Emma.
“NO!”
Adrian spun around, but before he could pull the trigger or block the throw, four-year-old Emma suddenly slipped past Natalie’s legs.
With surprising speed, the little girl lunged forward and bit down as hard as she could into Madison’s wrist.
“AHHH!” Madison screamed in agony, her grip failing as the heavy bottle of acid slipped from her hand and shattered against the stone floor, spraying corrosive liquid across her own designer shoes and ankles.
Madison shrieked in horror as the acid began to eat through her stockings and skin, dropping to her knees in writhing agony.
Caleb panicked, lunging forward with the wrench toward Adrian.
Adrian didn't hesitate. He stepped to the side, brought the heavy stock of the rifle down in a devastating arc, and struck Caleb across the temple.
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Caleb hit the stone floor with a dull thud and went completely still.
Above them, the distant wail of police sirens began to echo through the night air, growing louder and closer with every second.
