My mother-in-law called my 8-year-old daughter a disappointment at Sunday dinner, forgetting I had spent three years paying her car, insurance, medical bills, and every fake emergency because of a promise to my late wife—but when she threatened to take Ellie from me after I cut her off, my records, witnesses, security footage, and one judge’s question exposed the grandmother who only cared when the money stopped.

I woke up groggy, my head throbbing with a sickening, intense pain.

I was tied securely to a heavy wooden chair in a small, windowless office inside the mill.

The dim light from a single exposed bulb cast harsh shadows across the dirty floor.

Barbara was sitting casually on the edge of a rusted metal desk, examining her perfectly manicured fingernails.

Jennifer stood nervously in the corner, keeping her eyes glued to the concrete floor.

"You really thought you could just cut me off, didn't you, Derek?" Barbara asked with a cruel smile.

"Where is my daughter?" I demanded, completely ignoring her question.

"Oh, she is perfectly safe, sleeping in the next room," Barbara assured me lightly.

"Once you sign the trust documents, Richard will take her to Florida, and you will never see her again."

"Leah left that money for Ellie's future, not for your pathetic gambling debts," I spat at her.

Barbara's face twisted into a mask of pure, ugly hatred.

"Leah was a weak, ungrateful child who never appreciated anything I did for her," Barbara snapped.

"I deserved that money for putting up with her constant illness and her pathetic complaints."

I realized in that moment that Barbara had absolutely no soul left inside her.

"Where is Tom?" I asked, looking over at Jennifer's trembling form.

"Tom actually tried to protect Ellie when he figured out my plan," Jennifer sobbed quietly.

"So I had to drug his coffee and lock him in the basement of the cabin."

"You sold out your own family for a payout from a deadbeat grandfather," I said in pure disgust.

Barbara stood up, picked up the leather briefcase, and placed the fake documents on my lap.

She handed me a black ink pen and pressed the cold barrel of Jennifer's gun against my temple.

"Sign the papers right now, or I will ensure Ellie grows up completely alone," Barbara threatened.

I looked down at the documents, knowing they were completely fake.

But I also knew Marcus’s ninety-minute timer was rapidly ticking down to zero.

I slowly took the pen, dragging out every single movement to buy precious seconds.

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of heavy police sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder by the second.

“Which daughter is yours?” should have been a harmless question

The first wineglass shattered at 8:07 p.m

The moment the mafia boss’s wife called me “an illiterate servant,”

Barbara panicked, violently snatching the papers and rushing toward the heavy metal door.

But before she could even turn the rusted handle, the door was violently kicked open from the outside.

Chapter 7 - The Interrogation