Chapter 8 - The Falling Hammer

"You burn this room, Vivian," I said, my voice echoing clearly over the hum of the cooling units, "and you burn your last chance at a plea bargain."

Marcus raised the crowbar, his face contorted in a mix of fear and rage. "I don't care about a plea bargain! You ruined my life! I was going to be CEO! I was going to be rich!"

"You were going to be a thief," I corrected, stepping forward instead of back. "You stole from a crippled man. You hid behind your mother’s skirts while she fed my father poison. You’re not a CEO, Marcus. You’re a pathetic parasite who never built a single thing in his entire life."

With a roar of blind rage, Marcus swung the heavy crowbar directly at my head.

I ducked beneath the swing, the iron bar whistling inches above my hair and slamming into a metal server cabinet with a deafening CRACK, sending sparks flying through the air.

Before Marcus could recover his balance, the heavy reinforced steel doors of the server room burst open.

"POLICE! DROP THE WEAPON!" Detective Miller screamed, leading four armed officers into the room with weapons drawn, red laser sights pinning Marcus’s chest. "DROP IT NOW!"

Marcus froze, the crowbar slipping from his sweaty hands and clattering uselessly against the floor. He slowly raised his arms into the air, trembling violently.

"Don't shoot!" Vivian shrieked, throwing her hands up, dropping the lighter fluid. "It was him! It was Marcus! He made me do it! He planned the whole thing!"

Marcus snapped his head toward his mother, his face turning pale with utter betrayal. "What?! Mom, you crazy bitch! You’re the one who bribed the doctor! You’re the one who tampered with the brakes on Richard’s car!"

The room fell dead silent except for the whirring servers.

Detective Miller looked at Vivian, then at Marcus, his face hard as flint. "Tampered with the brakes, huh? Thank you for that formal confession, son. Put it on the record."

Two officers tackled Marcus to the floor, pulling his arms behind his back and clicking heavy steel cuffs around his wrists. Another officer stepped up to Vivian, forcing her hands behind her back as she began to sob hysterically, screaming obscenities at both me and her son.

Detective Miller walked over to me, checking my face. "You okay, Miss Hale?"

I adjusted my jacket, taking a deep, clean breath of the chilled air. "I'm fine, Detective. Did you record that?"

Miller pointed to the chest-cam mounted on his uniform, its little red light blinking steadily. "Every single word."

As the officers hauled Vivian and Marcus out of the facility, screaming at each other in a frantic war of mutual accusations, I walked over to the master console.

I sat down at the chair, typed in my mother’s maiden name—ELIZABETH_VAUGHN_1988—and hit enter.

The screen flashed green.

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SYSTEM OVERRIDE ACCEPTED. ALL DATA LOGS SECURED AND LOCKED.

I leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes as the tension that had held my body hostage for six long years finally melted away.