Chapter 8 - The ConfrontationCharles didn't flinch. Instead, a cold, mocking laugh escaped his lips.
"A trap? You pathetic fool," Charles scoffed, waving a dismissive hand at his guards. "You think a starving writer with a crying baby can outsmart me? I own the banks, the courts, and half the police department in this city. Where is the brat?"
"Looking for his mother," Arthur replied, stepping closer. "The mother you locked away because she wouldn't sign away her inheritance."
Charles's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, replaced by a dark, venomous glare. "She was unstable. Just like her sister. It was a mercy."
"It was murder," a new voice rang out from the darkness of the hallway.
Sarah stepped into the light, holding baby Leo securely in her arms. The moment Charles saw her face, his color drained completely. He stumbled backward, his hand flying to his chest.
"Elena?!" Charles gasped, his eyes wide with superstitious terror. "No... no, you're dead! I watched them—"
"You watched what you paid them to do," Sarah said coldly, stepping into the full illumination of the chandelier. "You thought you buried a stranger in her place. But you forgot one thing, Father: blood remembers."
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The two security guards drew their weapons, aiming directly at Sarah and the infant. "Sir, give the order. We’ll clean this up just like the first time."
Arthur didn't hesitate. With a feral roar, he lunged forward, swinging the heavy iron poker with all the pent-up rage of a grieving husband and a terrified father.
