Chapter 8 - The Desperate Ploy
A raw, animalistic scream tore from my throat.
I lunged toward the television screen, desperate to reach my son.
Marcus caught me by the hair and threw me violently to the floor.
"Brandon!" I sobbed, struggling against the guard's heavy boot pressing down on my back.
Julian gripped the armrests of his wheelchair, his knuckles turning completely white.
His eyes burned with a lethal rage I had never seen before.
"Don't hurt him!" Julian shouted.
"I will sign whatever you want!"
Victoria smiled in triumph and slid the papers across the mahogany desk.
She placed a gold fountain pen next to the signature line.
"Wise choice," she purred.
Julian rolled his chair forward slowly.
I watched him from the floor, my tears blurring my vision.
He picked up the pen with trembling fingers.
He looked at the television screen, watching the masked man press the needle closer to Brandon's skin.
"Let the boy go first," Julian demanded.
"Sign it first," Victoria countered.
Julian took a deep breath and signed his name on the final page of the document.
Victoria snatched the papers away instantly, her eyes gleaming with greed.
"Finally," she whispered.
"The Bennett empire is entirely mine."
She looked down at Julian with absolute disgust.
"You really thought I would let any of you leave here alive to tell the police?"
Victoria turned to Marcus and gave a brief, cold nod.
"Kill them all," she ordered.
"Make it look like a murder-suicide."
Marcus grinned and raised the handgun, pointing it squarely at Julian's head.
Emma screamed and covered her eyes.
I closed my eyes, waiting for the deafening sound of a gunshot to end it all.
Instead, a loud, metallic crash echoed through the library.
I opened my eyes and saw Julian doing the absolute impossible.
He was not sitting in his wheelchair anymore.
Fueled by pure adrenaline and absolute rage, Julian had launched himself out of the chair.
He tackled Marcus with the strength of a fully healthy man, driving his shoulder straight into the guard's chest.
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Both men crashed violently through the heavy glass coffee table, shattering it into a million pieces.
The gun fired wildly into the ceiling, sending plaster raining down on us.
