Chapter 25 - The Red Heel Returns
Catherine dropped to her knees on the porch, clutching her bleeding hand to her chest, her face contorted in sheer, unadulterated agony. The Montblanc pen was sticking out through the fleshy meat between her thumb and forefinger, blood dripping down onto the cedar floorboards.
"You psychotic little bitch!" Catherine screamed, her manicured facade finally shattering into raw, feral hatred. "I'll bury you! I'll take him from you before the day is out!"
Khloe didn't back down. She grabbed the legal documents off the railing, ripped them down the center, then ripped them again, tossing the shredded fragments directly into the rain.
"My father didn't use donor material, Catherine," Khloe said, her voice dropping into a register of utter, icy murder. "Do you know how I know?"
Catherine glared up through tears of rage, gasping for air.
"Because I switched clinics," Khloe whispered, leaning down until her face was inches from Catherine’s ear. "Two months into the treatments, I found out Dr. Keller was reporting my cycles to Dad. So I canceled the appointments. Mark and I went to a private doctor in Jersey City. Nathan is Mark’s. One hundred percent. Genetically. Legally. Eternally."
Catherine’s eyes widened in sheer, paralyzed shock. "You... you lied to Anthony?"
"I learned from the best," Khloe said coldly.
Isabella pushed herself up from the deck, leaning against the rail, a bruised, bloody smile spreading across her lips. "I told you, Catherine. You never could read her."
Suddenly, the roar of an engine echoed through the valley below.
A silver Cadillac Escalade came tearing up the mountain road, its high beams cutting through the gloom, mud spraying from all four tires. Behind it came a second vehicle—a black tactical van.
"They're here," Catherine laughed, blood sputtering from her lips as she looked past us down the driveway. "You think you won because of a bloodline? The syndicate doesn't care whose sperm made that boy, Khloe! The contract with Vanguard says they take possession of the heir if the estate is disputed! They're not here to negotiate!"
I grabbed Khloe by the waist. "To the woods! Run!"
"The keys to the Mercedes!" Isabella shouted, lunging forward and snatching Catherine’s car keys off the outdoor table. "Take the sedan! Go!"
Isabella threw the key fob through the air. I caught it against my chest.
We sprinted toward the black Mercedes just as the Escalade slammed through the wooden gate at the foot of the driveway. Two men in dark tactical gear stepped out of the Escalade, assault rifles raised.
*Crack! Crack!*
Rounds punched through the rear windshield of our old SUV, glass raining across the gravel.
Khloe dove into the backseat of the Mercedes with Nathan, covering him with her body. I scrambled into the driver's seat, hit the ignition button, and slammed the transmission into reverse. The luxury sedan roared to life, tires screaming against the mud as I spun the wheel, rocketing backward down the narrow escape trail behind the cabin.
Through the rain-streaked windshield, I saw Isabella standing on the front porch.
She wasn't running. She had picked up the tire iron I’d dropped on the stairs. She stood directly in the center of the porch, blocking the front door, facing the armed men advancing through the mist.
"Isabella!" Khloe screamed from the backseat. "No! Get in!"
Isabella didn't look back. She raised the steel bar, her jaw set, her eyes fixed on the men who had come to tear her family apart.
*BANG.*
A single shot echoed across the mountain pass.
The Mercedes plummeted down the rocky fire trail, the rear window blowing out in a spray of safety glass as the vehicle barreled into the dark, suffocating canopy of the woods.
May you like
Behind us, resting on the mud-slicked gravel where our tires had spun, illuminated by the red tail-lights of our retreating car, lay a solitary, broken red stiletto—and next to it, a phone ringing on the gravel with a video call incoming from an unlisted number labeled simply:
*ST. JUDE'S — VAULT BREACH CONFIRMED.*
