Chapter 5 - The Hostage
Vivian's eyes were completely devoid of sanity as she gestured with the deadly weapon for me to step inside the filthy apartment.
My private investigator instinctively reached for his own weapon, but a massive man stepped out from the shadows and struck him unconscious.
I was shoved roughly into a small, dark living room where Elena Vance was tied securely to a wooden chair.
The young surrogate was weeping softly, her face bruised and her eyes wide with unimaginable terror.
Vivian locked the deadbolt behind us and casually wiped a spot of blood from the barrel of her silenced pistol.
She explained that she had bailed Richard out of jail two hours ago using a secret reserve of cartel cash.
Richard was currently on a private jet heading toward an offshore safe haven, leaving his mother behind to clean up his mess.
Vivian sneered at me, revealing that she had orchestrated this entire nightmare from the very beginning.
She had always despised my wealthy family and believed her son deserved to control the entire corporate empire.
She proudly admitted that she was the one who arranged the fake mistress and hired the desperate surrogate to create a new heir.
Vivian planned to execute both me and Elena tonight, staging the crime scene to look like a tragic murder-suicide fueled by extreme jealousy.
Without my presence, Richard would easily win full custody of Ethan and inherit the massive, untouchable trust fund.
She raised the pistol and aimed it squarely at my chest, savoring the absolute power she held over my life.
I knew that begging for mercy would only give this psychotic woman more satisfaction before she pulled the trigger.
Instead, I looked directly into her cold eyes and started laughing with genuine, unrestrained amusement.
Vivian lowered the gun slightly, completely unnerved by my sudden and inappropriate reaction to imminent death.
I told her she was a foolish old woman who had just confessed her entire criminal conspiracy to a federal agent.
I unbuttoned the top of my blouse, revealing a blinking wire transmitter securely taped to my collarbone.
Before Vivian could even process the devastating trap, the apartment windows shattered inward with explosive force.
Armed tactical teams rappelled through the broken glass, instantly filling the room with blinding smoke and red laser sights.
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Through the chaotic haze, a tall man in a dark suit walked into the room, holding a heavily encrypted tablet.
It was my father's old business partner, a man who had supposedly died in a plane crash ten years ago.
