Chapter 8 - The Betrayal
I struggled fiercely, kicking my heels backward into Ethan’s shins.
He grunted in pain but didn't loosen his crushing grip.
We crashed through the balcony doors, stepping out into the freezing night air.
The stone terrace lay fifty feet below us, jagged and unforgiving.
"Give me the letter!" Ethan roared, shoving me against the stone railing.
I leaned back over the dizzying drop, clutching the envelope tightly to my chest.
"You don't want this letter, Ethan," I gasped out.
"It proves Margaret killed my father!" he yelled. "It gives me everything!"
I shook my head, my heart pounding violently against my ribs.
"I read the ledger, Ethan," I lied, praying the bluff would work.
"Margaret didn't just steal the trust fund; she drained your personal offshore accounts too."
Ethan froze, his eyes narrowing in sudden confusion.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded.
"She knew you were plotting against her," I said rapidly. "She emptied your shell company yesterday morning."
His grip on my arms loosened just a fraction as the shock set in.
"She used you, Ethan," I pressed on. "She used your anger to distract the police while she transferred all the money to Switzerland."
He stumbled backward, releasing me entirely.
His face contorted into an ugly mask of pure betrayal and rage.
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a heavy black pistol.
I screamed and threw my hands up to protect my face.
But Ethan didn't aim the gun at me.
He whipped around, pointing the barrel directly at the bedroom door.
Margaret stepped out of the shadows, her silver-blonde hair uncharacteristically disheveled.
She was holding a revolver of her own, pointed directly at Ethan's chest.
"You really are as stupid as your father was," Margaret hissed.
"You stole my money," Ethan growled, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"I took back what belonged to me," she replied coldly.
Before either of them could fire, a massive spotlight suddenly illuminated the balcony from below.
A police helicopter roared overhead, its deafening blades shaking the glass doors.
"Drop your weapons!" a voice boomed from a megaphone above.
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Margaret looked up at the light, and Ethan seized the opportunity.
He lunged forward, tackling his mother to the floor.
