Chapter 7 - Bail and Blackmail
I stared at Sylvia as she trembled in the center of my small kitchen.
"Marcus took money from a cartel?" I asked, my voice dangerously low.
Sylvia nodded frantically, tears streaming down her pale face.
"He owes them five million dollars, Elena, and they are coming to collect it tonight," she wept.
She opened her designer purse and pulled out a stack of gruesome, threatening photographs.
The pictures showed Marcus being followed, our parents' house under surveillance, and a terrifying image of Daniel's school.
"They told Marcus that if he didn't deliver the prototype or the cash, they would slaughter the entire family," Sylvia explained.
"So he tried to use my son as a decoy to save his own pathetic life," I realized with boiling rage.
"Elena, you are secretly rich, you have to pay Marcus's bail and give the cartel their money!" she demanded.
I let out a cold, sharp laugh that made Sylvia flinch backward.
"I will never give a single dime of my money to save the man who tried to ruin my child," I stated firmly.
Sylvia's desperate, crying face suddenly hardened into an ugly, cruel scowl.
"I knew you would be a selfish bitch about this," Sylvia sneered, completely dropping her victim act.
"If you don't pay the cartel, I am going to tell them that you are the billionaire CEO of Apex Holdings," she threatened.
"I will give them your address, and I will tell them your son is the perfect target for a ransom kidnapping."
I looked at my sister-in-law, realizing she was just as monstrous and greedy as my brother.
"You are threatening to send a cartel after my seven-year-old son?" I asked quietly.
"I will do whatever it takes to protect my own lifestyle, Elena," Sylvia smiled wickedly.
Suddenly, a loud, heavy pounding echoed against my front door, shaking the entire apartment frame.
Before I could look through the peephole, the door was violently kicked open off its hinges.
Three massive men wearing dark tactical gear and carrying suppressed weapons stepped into my living room.
Sylvia let out a terrified shriek and hid behind my kitchen island.
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The leader of the armed men, a man with a scarred face, pointed his weapon directly at my chest.
"Marcus Vance owes us a very large debt, and we hear you are the one holding the purse strings," the scarred man growled.
