CHAPTER 10: The Turning of Blood
CHAPTER 10: The Turning of Blood
She didn't make it two steps.
The officers grabbed her arms, spinning her around with practiced efficiency that left her gasping for air.
“Get your hands off me!” Eleanor screamed, kicking her expensive heels against the officers’ shins. “I will sue this entire department! I will have your badges by morning! Do you know who my lawyers are?”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Agent Miller began, entirely unfazed by her thrashing. He pulled a pair of heavy steel handcuffs from his utility belt.
“I am not going in a police car!” she shrieked, her voice echoing into the grand dining hall where hundreds of other wedding guests were now crowding the entrance, watching the spectacle. “My son is getting married! This is my event! I paid for every single thing in this room!”
Click. Click.
The cold steel clamped down over her wrists, binding them tightly behind her back.
The sound of those cuffs locking was the most beautiful music I had ever heard. It was the sound of five years of tyranny, arrogance, and cruelty finally crashing down to the marble floor.
Eleanor stopped struggling. The reality of the cold metal against her skin seemed to short-circuit her brain. She looked down at her wrists, then slowly lifted her head to look at her friends. She was looking for a savior. She was waiting for Richard Vance, or Judge Harrison, or any of the powerful people she had bought over the years to step forward and stop this.
Nobody moved. They wouldn't even make eye contact with her. In their world, getting caught was the only unforgivable sin.
“Harrison,” Eleanor suddenly cried out, her eyes finding her son in the crowd. “Harrison, do something! Tell them! Tell them this is a misunderstanding! Call our attorneys!”
Harrison stood near the back of the foyer, his white tuxedo looking incredibly out of place amidst the dark uniforms of the police officers. His face was pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of horror, betrayal, and profound sadness. He slowly walked forward, the crowd parting to let the groom through.
He looked at me. He looked at Sarah, balancing on her cane with quiet dignity. Then, he looked down at the shattered pieces of carbon fiber on the floor—the physical evidence of his mother’s malicious cruelty. Finally, he looked at his mother, standing in handcuffs.
“You did it, didn't you?” Harrison asked. His voice was quiet, trembling, but it carried across the silent room.
“Harry, please,” Eleanor begged, tears finally streaking her immaculate makeup, ruining the illusion of her perfection. “They are lying. Your brother is just jealous of you. He wants to ruin your day because he was cut out of the will.”
“I asked you a question, Mom,” Harrison said, his voice hardening into something I had never heard from him before. “Did you steal Dad’s money? Did you forge the documents?”
Eleanor hesitated. For a fraction of a second, her eyes darted to Agent Miller and the evidence bag holding the USB drive. She knew it was over. She knew the proof was absolute.
“I… I did it for us, Harry,” she whispered, a desperate, pathetic attempt at justification. “I did it to protect our lifestyle. To make sure you had everything you deserved. He was going to give it all away to charity! To strangers!”
Harrison closed his eyes, a heavy tear slipping down his cheek. He let out a long, shuddering breath that seemed to deflate his entire chest.
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“You didn't do it for me,” Harrison said quietly. “You did it because you’re greedy. And you just slammed a door on a disabled woman’s leg because you’re cruel.”
He turned his back on her.
