Chapter 15 - The Police Report|
Vivian’s eyes bulged in pure terror as my phone screen glowed red and blue.
“I need emergency medical assistance and law enforcement at 412 Elmhurst Lane,” I said calmly into the microphone, my voice clear and steady.
“Sir, what is the nature of your emergency?” the dispatcher asked.
“My wife is recovering from emergency surgery and has been physically assaulted and denied her prescribed pain medication,” I reported, keeping my eyes locked onto Vivian’s frozen face. “And I am currently holding high-definition video footage of child endangerment, elder abuse, and prescription tampering committed by an unauthorized trespasser in my home.”
“No!” Vivian shrieked, sprinting up three steps. “Daniel, hang up that phone right now! I am your mother!”
“The suspect’s name is Vivian Vance,” I continued smoothly to the dispatcher. “She is currently in my hallway refusing to leave the premises.”
“Units are en route, sir,” the dispatcher replied. “Stay in a secure room until officers arrive.”
I disconnected the call and slid the phone back into my pocket.
Vivian was shaking violently, clutching the wooden bannister as if it were the only thing keeping her standing.
“You... you called the police on me?” she whimpered, tears finally streaming down her face—real tears of panic, not performance. “After everything I did for you? After I gave up my life to raise you?”
“You didn't raise me,” I spat, walking down the stairs one slow, deliberate step at a time until I stood two feet above her. “You used me. You abused my sister. You tormented my wife. You threatened my son. You are a cancer on this family, Vivian. And today, you are finally being cut out.”
Out in the driveway, the high-pitched wail of police sirens echoed through the quiet suburban neighborhood.
Red and blue lights began to flash through the frosted glass of our front door.
Vivian looked at the door, then looked up at me, her face twisting into a hideous mask of pure, unadulterated hatred.
“Your father will destroy you for this!” she spat venomously. “He loves me! He will never believe a word you say!”
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“Dad is on a flight back from Chicago right now,” I replied coldly. “And Natalie just sent him the video, the audio, and the death certificate of his real wife.”
Vivian dropped her handbag. She had no words left.
