Chapter 9: The Final Lock
Chapter 9: The Final Lock
Helena laughed. It was an ugly, hollow sound.
“You are just a stubborn little girl. You ruined my son, but you will not ruin my legacy.”
She cocked the hammer of the revolver.
Shoot them,” she told her guards. Before the men could lift their rifles, the deafening wail of sirens pierced the night air.
Blue and red lights painted the windows, strobing wildly against the white sheets. Helena froze. The front door burst open.
Claire stood there, out of breath, holding a satellite phone.
“I called the Feds the second we pulled into the driveway,” Claire said, her voice echoing in the massive room. “They brought everyone.”
Helena looked at the flashing lights, then down at me. Her pristine white armor was cracking. The reality of her situation was finally bleeding through.
“Drop the weapon, Helena,” my father ordered, stepping forward.
The guards looked at each other, lowered their guns, and put their hands on their heads. They weren’t going to die for a sinking ship.
Helena’s hand trembled. She looked at the lockbox in my hands.
The physical proof of her entire corrupt empire. Slowly, the revolver slipped from her grip, clattering against the hardwood floor. Federal agents swarmed the room a second later.
They cuffed her. They dragged her down the same stairs she had tried to rule from.
I walked past her, clutching the velvet box. “You opened the doors, Evelyn,”
May you like
my father said quietly as we stepped out into the cold night air.
I looked at the swirling lights, then at Claire, who was finally smiling. “No,” I said. “We closed them.” And this time, they would stay closed forever.
