Chapter 6 - The Struggle
My father dropped the lighter in pure shock as I lunged across the room.
I slammed my body into his chest, knocking him backward over his expensive leather desk chair.
He hit the floor hard, groaning as the wind was knocked out of his lungs.
I didn't wait for him to recover.
I grabbed the thick stack of trust fund documents off the desk and shoved them into my jacket pocket.
"Give those back to me, you ungrateful little brat!" my father roared, scrambling to his feet.
He lunged at me, his massive hands wrapping tightly around my throat.
He slammed me against the wooden bookshelf, knocking several heavy encyclopedias to the floor.
"You have ruined everything since the day you were born," he spat in my face, his grip tightening.
Black spots danced at the edges of my vision as I clawed desperately at his hands.
I couldn't breathe.
I reached out blindly with my right hand, my fingers brushing against the heavy brass lamp on his desk.
I gripped the base of the lamp and swung it backward with every ounce of strength I had left.
The brass base connected with the side of my father's head with a sickening crack.
He immediately dropped his hands and collapsed onto the Persian rug, out cold.
I slumped against the bookshelf, gasping for air and massaging my bruised throat.
I had the video of him poisoning Lily, and I had the documents proving the financial motive.
I had everything I needed to put my entire family in federal prison for the rest of their miserable lives.
I stepped over my father's unconscious body and ran down the stairs, heading straight for the front door.
I threw the door open and sprinted down the driveway, the cold morning air stinging my lungs.
I didn't stop running until I reached the main road, two miles away from the estate.
I pulled out my phone and dialed the number for the State Police, refusing to trust the local cops who had arrested Marcus.
"State Police Dispatch, what is your emergency?" a calm voice answered.
"I need to report an attempted murder of a child, a corrupt CPS agent, and a fifty million dollar fraud conspiracy," I gasped.
"Who am I speaking with?" the dispatcher asked, her tone shifting to high alert.
"My name is Camille Vance," I said.
"And I have all the evidence right here in my hands."
"Stay exactly where you are, Ms. Vance," the dispatcher ordered.
"I am sending an armed unit to your location right now."
I sat down on the curb, clutching the laptop and the documents to my chest.
For the first time since I woke up to an empty bedroom, I finally felt a tiny glimmer of hope.
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But that hope was shattered when a black SUV screeched to a halt right in front of me.
The tinted window rolled down, revealing the CPS worker, Brenda, holding a silenced pistol aimed directly at my head.
