Chapter 7 - The Dead Man's Switch
The absolute madness in Daniel's eyes confirmed that he was not bluffing about the bombs.
He had realized his entire fraudulent scheme was collapsing, and he was choosing total destruction over prison.
Vanessa began weeping uncontrollably in my arms, terrified of her own husband's insane backup plan.
"Daniel, put the detonator down, you are going to kill us all!" she screamed desperately.
"You failed to kill her on the road, Vanessa, so this is your fault!" Daniel roared back at her.
Volkov slowly raised his silver revolver again, aiming it squarely at Daniel's chest.
"If you press that button, my men will slaughter you before the building even hits the ground," Volkov threatened coldly.
"If I die, my thumb slips off the trigger, and the bombs detonate anyway," Daniel sneered, revealing it was a dead man's switch.
The ballroom was locked in a terrifying, deadly stalemate.
I knew that any sudden movement would result in the deaths of hundreds of innocent hotel guests above us.
I slowly lowered my gun from Vanessa's throat and pushed her gently toward her husband.
"You win, Daniel," I said, projecting a calm defeat I absolutely did not feel.
"I will sign the legal transfer of the resort to Mr. Volkov right now."
Daniel's manic laughter slowly died down, replaced by a suspicious glare.
"You are lying, you would rather die than give up your grandfather's legacy," Daniel argued.
"I would rather lose the resort than watch a thousand innocent people burn," I replied firmly.
I looked directly at Volkov, offering an alliance of mutual survival.
"The physical contracts are in the boardroom on the top floor," I told the Russian.
"We go up there, I sign the papers, and you let everyone walk away."
Volkov nodded slowly in agreement, gesturing for his heavily armed guards to secure Daniel.
"We all ride the elevator together, very peacefully," Volkov commanded.
Daniel kept his trembling thumb firmly pressed on the red button as we all stepped into the glass elevator.
The ride up to the top floor was suffocatingly silent, filled only with the sound of our ragged breathing.
As the elevator doors opened to the luxurious boardroom, my eyes darted toward the massive mahogany table.
The legal contracts were sitting exactly where Daniel had prepared them.
I picked up the expensive fountain pen, my hand hovering over the signature line.
But as I quickly read the fine print of the transfer, I realized a horrifying detail about the financial clauses.
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Daniel was not selling the resort to Volkov's syndicate.
He had secretly structured the contract to transfer the massive debts of a rival cartel directly onto Volkov's head.
