Chapter 7 - The Confrontation
The iron gate shattered under the impact of a heavy pickup truck.
The vehicle roared up the gravel driveway, its tires spinning wildly on the snow, before screeching to a halt at the bottom of the new stone ramp.
The driver’s door flew open.
Preston Callaway stumbled out into the cold, his clothes disheveled, his eyes wild and bloodshot with rage and alcohol. In his right hand, he clutched a dark metal revolver.
“Scarlet!” Preston screamed, his voice cracking with hysterical fury. “Scarlet, get out here!”
Inside the house, security alarms blared softly. Within three seconds, Dominic Renzy and four armed guards materialized from the shadows of the veranda, their weapons drawn and locked onto Preston.
Garrison did not flinch. He stood up slowly, stepping in front of Scarlet’s wheelchair, shielding her completely with his broad frame.
“Stand down,” Garrison ordered his guards calmly. He looked down at Preston from the top of the ramp. “You’re trespassing, Callaway.”
“You ruined us!” Preston shrieked, pointing the revolver with shaking hands toward Garrison. “You took my mother’s business! You froze my bank accounts! The police are coming to my house right now with an arrest warrant!”
Scarlet pushed her chair forward, coming up beside Garrison. “Preston, put the gun down! You’re drunk!”
When Preston saw Scarlet sitting beside the city’s most feared man, dressed in fine clothes, looking healthy and protected, his face twisted into an ugly mask of hatred.
“You little bitch!” Preston yelled, tears of rage streaming down his face. “You did this! You ran to this mobster and told him lies about us! We gave you a roof over your head for a year! We fed you while you sat in that useless chair!”
Scarlet’s eyes flashed with a fierce, cold fire. All the fear, hurt, and humiliation she had carried for fourteen months burned away in an instant, replaced by absolute clarity.
“You didn't feed me, Preston,” Scarlet called back, her voice echoing clearly across the driveway. “My insurance money paid for everything in your mother’s house! You stole my settlement to pay off your own debts, and when the money ran out, you dumped me on a curb to die in a blizzard!”
“You’re my wife!” Preston roared, raising the revolver higher. “You belong to me! If I’m going to prison, I’m taking you with me!”
He squeezed the trigger.
Before the hammer could fall, Garrison moved with terrifying speed.
He leaped off the top of the stone ramp, landing on Preston like an avalanche. He grabbed Preston’s wrist, twisting it back with a sharp, sickening crack. The revolver flew from Preston’s hand, landing harmlessly in a snowbank.
Preston screamed in agony as Garrison slammed him face-first onto the frozen hood of the truck.
Garrison held him pinned with one heavy forearm across his neck, his dark gray eyes burning with lethal fury.
“Touch her again,” Garrison whispered into Preston’s ear, his voice so cold it froze the air between them, “and I will ensure you spend the rest of your life buried under six feet of concrete.”
Police sirens wailed in the distance, their red and blue lights flashing through the maple trees as three squad cars raced up the driveway.
Dom stepped forward, retrieving the fallen revolver from the snow with a handkerchief. “The police are here, boss.”
Garrison released his grip, stepping back as four city officers tackled the sobbing, broken Preston to the ground, slapping heavy iron handcuffs onto his wrists.
The police captain walked up the ramp, nodding respectfully to Garrison. “Mr. Vance. Are you and Miss Bennett alright?”
“We’re fine, Captain,” Garrison replied smoothly, smoothing down his suit jacket. “Mr. Callaway broke through my gate, threatened my family with an illegal firearm, and attempted to shoot my guest. I trust he will be held without bail?”
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“He won't see the light of day for a long time, sir,” the captain assured him, gesturing for his officers to drag Preston toward the squad car.
As Preston was shoved into the back seat, he looked out through the glass, locking eyes with Scarlet one last time. But Scarlet didn't look away. She sat straight in her wheelchair at the top of the ramp, her head held high, watching her former abuser being hauled away in shame.
