Chapter 6 - The Trapped Rats
At 7:00 a.m. the following morning, the sun rose over Silverspring, casting a cold golden light across the manicured lawns of the Williams family estate.
Inside the thirty-room mansion, chaos reigned.
Maris was pacing furiously across the Persian rug in the main study, holding an ice pack against her swollen eyes. She hadn't slept a single minute. Beside her, Julian Williams—a slick thirty-five-year-old man in a wrinkled linen shirt—was nervously pouring himself a glass of scotch despite the early hour.
"He froze the credit cards, Aunt Maris!" Julian yelled, his hands shaking so violently the crystal decanter clinked against the glass. "I went to pay my driver this morning and the black card was declined! The bank manager told me my authorization was revoked by Victor personally!"
"Shut up, Julian!" Maris snapped, tossing the ice pack onto the mahogany desk. "Victor is just throwing a temper tantrum! He’s emotional because he saw that pathetic girl. Once he cools down and realizes the press will destroy his stock if this gets out, he will come to his senses!"
Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the study flew open.
Victor walked in. He wasn't wearing his suit from the night before; he was dressed in a stark black turtleneck and a long wool coat, flanked by two uniformed police officers and Sophia Sterling.
"Victor!" Maris forced a grand, welcoming smile, though her voice wobbled. "Oh, thank goodness you’re here. Darling, we need to talk about last night. I know you were upset, but—"
"Julian Williams," the senior police officer stepped forward, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his tactical belt. "You are under arrest for grand larceny, forgery of real estate titles, and conspiracy to commit wire fraud."
Julian dropped his glass of scotch. It shattered on the hardwood floor, dark liquid splashing across his leather shoes. "What?! Aunt Maris, do something!"
"Victor, are you insane?!" Maris shrieked, darting between the officers and her nephew. "He is your cousin! He is family! You are putting your own blood in handcuffs over that worthless teacher and her bastard child?!"
SMACK.
The sound echoed through the high-ceilinged room.
Maris stumbled back, clutching her cheek in utter shock. Victor hadn't struck her—it was Sophia Sterling who had stepped forward, her hand still raised, her face a mask of absolute professional fury.
"That 'worthless teacher' is the legal wife of the CEO of Williams Development," Sophia said coldly, stepping over the puddle of scotch. "And that child is the sole heiress to the Vance-Williams estate. One more insult out of your mouth, Mrs. Williams, and I will personally ensure the district attorney adds verbal harassment to your indictment."
"You... you hit me!" Maris gasped, looking at Victor. "Victor, she hit your mother! Are you going to stand there and let this stranger—"
"Sophia is my legal counsel, and she is acting on my explicit instructions," Victor said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Julian, hand over the original land deeds to the Northern Industrial Zone."
"I... I don't have them!" Julian stammered, his eyes darting frantically toward the wall safe behind the oil portrait of Victor’s grandfather. "They’re with my lawyer!"
Victor walked calmly to the wall safe. He didn't ask for the combination. He simply nodded to Brian, the chauffeur, who stepped into the room holding a heavy crowbar and a battery-powered industrial angle grinder he had brought from the estate garage.
"Victor, no!" Maris screamed as sparks began to fly across the study, filling the air with the smell of burning steel. "That safe holds family heirlooms! It holds your father’s legacy!"
"My father’s legacy died the day you turned his house into a den of thieves," Victor said without looking back.
Within three minutes, the safe door was wrenched open. Victor reached inside, pulling out thick leather binders, stacks of offshore bank statements, and the original, yellowed land deed bearing the signature of Catherine’s late father.
Victor held the deed in his hands, tracing his wife's family name embossed on the seal.
"It’s over, Mom," Victor said softly, turning to face Maris. "The police have warrants for your personal accounts as well. You have one hour to pack one suitcase of clothes bought prior to my marriage to Catherine. Everything else in this house is being locked down as evidence."
Maris fell to her knees, clutching the hem of Victor’s coat. "Victor... please! I am your mother! I raised you! I built you into the man you are today! You can't put me in prison! What will people say?!"
Victor looked down at the woman who had birthed him, feeling nothing but a vast, hollow emptiness.
May you like
"They will say," Victor whispered, leaning down so only she could hear, "that a daughter ate bread from the trash, so her father swept the garbage out of his life."
He pulled his coat away from her grip, turned on his heel, and walked out of the mansion, leaving the sound of his mother’s hysterical wails fading into the cold morning air.
