Chapter 9 - The Final Reckoning
"It's over, Victoria," Eleanor said, stepping cleanly in front of Julian and Chloe, shielding them both with her body. "The police know everything. The corporate servers in London have already flagged your fraudulent wire transfers."
Victoria let out a high-pitched, hysterical laugh. "You think I care about the wire transfers now, Eleanor?! Marcus and I have three offshore accounts that your little legal team will never find! All we need to do is finish this!"
She raised the black remote detonator higher in the air.
"This estate's main gas line runs directly beneath this wing," Marcus Vance explained with cold, clinical precision. "I placed two charges on the primary pressure valves five minutes ago. In thirty seconds, this entire wing will experience a catastrophic gas explosion. The fire department will find three burned bodies... and Victoria will be the sole surviving beneficiary of the Sterling family trust."
Julian stepped forward, his face pale with utter betrayal as he stared at the woman he had loved. "Victoria... why? I gave you everything! I loved you!"
"You were a pathetic, weak little boy who cried about his mommy every time he had a hard decision to make!" Victoria spat bitterly, her eyes wild. "I didn't want your love, Julian! I wanted your money!"
"You're not getting a single cent," Eleanor said softly.
She reached behind her back, her fingers wrapping around the grip of the small silver revolver tucked into her apron.
"Marcus," Eleanor said, keeping her voice completely steady. "Ten years ago, I saved your daughter's life by paying for her bone marrow transplant. I gave you a job, a home, and my complete trust. Is this how you repay me?"
Marcus's eyes flickered for a fraction of a second. A momentary shadow of guilt crossed his hardened face, but he quickly hardened his expression once more.
"Business is business, Mrs. Sterling," Marcus whispered. "Press the button, Victoria."
Victoria brought her thumb down onto the red button of the remote detonator.
CLICK.
Nothing happened.
No explosion rocked the mansion. No flames erupted from the floorboards. The fire sirens simply continued their rhythmic wail.
Victoria slammed her thumb onto the button repeatedly, panic instantly replacing her insane confidence. "What?! Why isn't it working?!"
Eleanor smiled—a slow, terrifying, triumphant smile.
"Did you really think I didn't know where the emergency gas shutoff valve was located?" Eleanor asked softly. "I turned off the main line from the control room ten minutes ago, Victoria. Your detonator is useless."
Victoria gasped, dropped the useless remote to the floor.
"Marcus! Kill them!" Victoria screamed, grabbing Marcus's tactical vest. "Kill them now!"
Marcus raised his shotgun, but before his finger could squeeze the trigger, Eleanor whipped the silver revolver out from behind her back, aiming straight for his knee.
BANG!
The heavy bullet strikes Marcus's knee cap with lethal precision. He let out an agonized roar, dropping his shotgun and falling heavily to his wet floorboards, clutching his shattered leg.
Victoria shrieked in terror, turning to run toward the main staircase.
She didn't get far.
Chloe stepped out from behind Eleanor, raised the heavy leather briefcase high above her head, and brought it down with all her remaining strength straight onto Victoria's face.
The heavy briefcase struck Victoria square on the bridge of her nose. She collapsed backward onto the wet Persian rug, her nose bleeding profusely, weeping and whimpering like a defeated child.
The grand front doors of the mansion were suddenly blasted inward as a tactical team of Connecticut State Troopers burst into the foyer, their laser sights cutting through the dark, water-filled gloom.
"STATE POLICE! DON'T MOVE!" a captain roared through a megaphone.
Eleanor slowly lowered her silver revolver, dropping the cylinder open and letting the remaining shells clatter harmlessly onto the wet floor.
She turned around, looking at her son, who was standing there completely speechbound, staring at his mother as if she were a mythological creature.
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Eleanor reached up, adjusted the collar of her soaked maid's uniform, and patted Julian gently on the cheek.
"I told you she wasn't the right girl for you, sweetheart," Eleanor said calmly.
