Chapter 4 - The Corrupt Precinct
The masked gunman ordered me to keep my hands firmly planted on the steering wheel.
He snatched the diary from the passenger seat and shoved it into a black duffel bag.
Instead of shooting me, he pistol-whipped me across the jaw, sending a blinding flash of pain through my skull.
I slumped against the driver's side window, my vision swimming with dark, fuzzy spots.
When I finally regained my senses, the gunman was gone, and the evidence was completely stolen.
I knew I could not give up, so I drove my battered car directly to the central police precinct.
I stormed into the lobby with blood dripping down my chin and demanded to speak to the police captain.
Captain Harris, a stern man with a thick gray mustache, escorted me into his private, soundproof office.
I poured my heart out, telling him everything about Arthur's fake paternity claim and the terrifying genetic harvesting plot.
I pleaded with him to raid Arthur's estate immediately and save those five innocent children.
Captain Harris listened quietly, taking meticulous notes on a yellow legal pad.
He stood up from his desk, walked over to a heavy iron safe in the corner, and unlocked it.
I thought he was retrieving a warrant or an evidence bag to help my case.
Instead, he pulled out a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills wrapped in tight rubber bands.
He tossed the money onto the desk right in front of me and offered a cold, sinister smile.
"Mr. Carter, Arthur Sterling is a very generous man who takes good care of this precinct," the captain sneered.
He explained that Arthur had already paid the police department to completely ignore any missing persons reports regarding the siblings.
I stared at the corrupt police captain in absolute disgust and horror.
I realized that the entire justice system in this city was completely controlled by the billionaire's bloody money.
I turned around and ran toward the office door, desperate to escape before he could arrest me.
The captain pulled his service weapon and fired a warning shot that shattered the glass window right next to my head.
"You have twenty-four hours to leave this city, or we will find illegal narcotics planted in your car," he threatened loudly.
I sprinted out of the precinct, ignoring the confused stares of the desk officers in the lobby.
I drove back to my neighborhood, determined to pack my bags, buy a gun, and rescue the children myself.
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But as I turned onto my street, I slammed on the brakes in sheer disbelief.
My beautifully renovated house was completely engulfed in towering, roaring orange flames.
