Chapter 7 - The Judas
The video played on a loop, burning the horrific truth into my retinas.
Marcus.
The man who had warned me at the country club.
The man who had told me not to take my mother to the hospital.
He hadn't been trying to save us from Claire’s family.
He had been orchestrating our movements, driving us perfectly into their trap.
He used my trust to flush us out of hiding so Claire could intercept my mother in the alleyway.
I slammed the laptop shut, yanking the hard drive from the USB port.
I shoved the hard drive and the photographs deep into my jacket pocket.
I now possessed the exact weapon I needed to destroy the Sterling family and put Marcus in prison for life.
But I still didn't know where they were holding my mother.
I walked out of the viewing room and handed the empty metal box back to Mr. Vance.
“Is everything alright, Mr. Hayes?” he asked quietly.
“I need one more favor, Mr. Vance.”
He looked nervous but nodded slowly.
“Do you have access to the bank’s internal tracking of Arthur Sterling’s corporate accounts?”
“That is highly illegal,” he whispered.
“So is the murder of my father.”
Mr. Vance’s face turned completely pale.
Without another word, he walked to his terminal and typed frantically for two minutes.
He printed a single piece of paper and slid it across the glass counter.
“Arthur Sterling just authorized a massive security expenditure ten minutes ago,” Mr. Vance said.
“Where?”
“A private airfield in New Jersey.”
They weren't taking my mother to a hospital or a courthouse.
They were flying her out of the country to force her signature in a jurisdiction where I couldn't protect her.
I thanked Mr. Vance and sprinted out of the bank.
I stole a delivery truck idling near the curb, tossing the driver a handful of cash from my father’s box.
I drove like a madman, weaving through the morning traffic toward the bridge.
I had exactly forty minutes before the private jet was scheduled for takeoff.
I broke every speed limit, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.
When I finally crashed through the chain-link fence of the private airfield, I saw the sleek white jet sitting on the tarmac.
The engines were already whining, preparing for taxi.
I slammed the delivery truck directly into the path of the aircraft, blocking the runway.
I jumped out of the cab, clutching a heavy steel wrench I found under the seat.
May you like
The door of the plane opened, and Marcus stepped out onto the boarding stairs.
He was holding a suppressed pistol, aimed directly at my chest.
