Chapter 5 - The Collapse of an EmpireBefore Dominic could recover his breath, before Victoria could scream, and before Natalie could even drop her phone, the heavy silence of the estate was shattered by an entirely different sound.
Wail. Wail. Wail.
The unmistakable, piercing sirens of multiple police cruisers echoed up the private driveway, cutting through the night air like a pack of wolves closing in on a wounded deer.
Headlights—bright, blinding, and blue-and-red—flashed through the floor-to-ceiling dining room windows, painting the walls in strobe-like panic.
Natalie shrieked, dropping her phone onto the Persian rug. It shattered instantly, the screen splintering into a spiderweb of glass. "What is that?! Are those cops?! Dominic, what did you do?!"
"I didn't do anything!" Dominic roared back, panic finally breaking his composure entirely. He spun around to look at me, his eyes wide, bloodshot, and frantic. He lunged forward, grabbing my wrists with a brutal, desperate grip, his fingers digging into my skin. "Audrey! Listen to me! Call them off! Whatever you sent, take it back! We can fix this! We can—"
Crack.
I didn't scream. I didn't pull away. With a swift, calculated movement—a self-defense technique my father had insisted I master before I was even a teenager—I twisted my wrists sharply against his thumbs, breaking his grip instantly, and drove the heel of my palm upward into his chin.
Dominic stumbled backward, howling in pain, tripping over his mother's fallen chair and crashing hard onto the floor.
Victoria rushed toward him, kneeling beside her precious son, glaring up at me with venomous, unadulterated hatred. "You ruined us!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with hysteria. "You ungrateful, calculating little monster! We made you! We gave you a name!"
"You gave me a cage," I replied, stepping over the threshold of the dining room and heading toward the grand foyer. "And I turned it into a execution chamber."
The heavy double front doors of the estate didn't even have time to be knocked on.
With a resounding boom, the reinforced mahogany doors were forced open by a tactical unit of federal agents and local police officers, their tactical gear sleek and authoritative under the foyer lights.
Lead Investigator Agent Marcus Vance—no relation, but an old colleague of my father's—stepped into the foyer, his eyes scanning the opulent hallway before locking directly onto me.
He gave a crisp, respectful nod.
May you like
"Mrs. Vance," Agent Vance said loudly, his voice carrying into the dining room where Dominic was still groaning on the floor. "Or should I say... Ms. Vance. We received your transmission. The asset freeze orders have already been signed by a federal judge."
"Thank you, Agent," I replied smoothly, adjusting my apron and smoothing down my skirt. "You'll find the primary suspects located in the dining room. Mr. Dominic Vance is currently nursing a bruised ego on the floor, and his accomplices are sitting right beside him."
