Chapter 6 - THE POISONED CONFESSION
"How did she get past the federal marshals?" Marcus demanded, his weapon still raised as tactical officers surrounded the shivering, soaked figure on the terrace.
"She didn't escape them," I said, studying the monitor. "Look at her shoulder."
Dark blood was blooming through the torn fabric of her trench coat. She had been shot.
Two minutes later, security hauled Genevieve into the lower decontamination bay of the bunker. She collapsed into a steel chair, shivering violently from hypothermia, her teeth chattering so hard they sounded like dice in a cup. Her face was bruised, her designer clothes shredded, and a deep graze from a high-caliber bullet had torn through the flesh of her upper left arm.
Yasmin stood at the far corner of the room, keeping a protective distance, her eyes wide with shock as she watched the woman who had terrorized her just hours ago reduced to a shivering wreck.
"Dorian..." Genevieve gasped, looking up through tangled, wet hair. "Please... you have to believe me... they tried to kill me..."
"Who tried to kill you, Genevieve?" I asked coldly, standing five feet away with my arms crossed. "The marshals?"
"No!" she sobbed, clutching her bleeding arm. "Julian's men! The transport vehicle... the marshals were ambushed two miles from your gatehouse! Julian didn't want me in federal custody—he knew I would cut a deal! They executed the federal agents, Dorian! They dragged me out of the van to put a bullet in the back of my head, but I jumped down the ravine into the creek!"
Marcus checked his secure tablet, his face darkening. "Boss... dispatch just confirmed it. An armored SUV was hit on the Atherton backroads. Three federal officers down. Julian’s hit squad was thorough."
Genevieve looked at me with wild, desperate eyes. "I stole a car... I knew about the Tahoe property from Julian's operational files. I knew it was the only place with enough firepower to stop him. He's not just coming for the children, Dorian. He’s coming tonight."
"Why?" I demanded, leaning down until my face was inches from hers. "What does he have that makes him think he can breach this fortress?"
"He has Mallory's medical records," she whispered, her voice trembling.
The air left the room.
"What did you just say?" I asked, my voice deadly soft.
"The clinic in Zurich... where Mallory had the emergency delivery," Genevieve wept, tears streaming down her bruised face. "Julian paid off the attending obstetrician. Mallory didn't die from natural postpartum hemorrhage, Dorian."
A roaring sound filled my ears, louder than the helicopter blades, louder than the klaxons. My heart felt as though it had stopped beating entirely.
"Say that again," I whispered.
"Eleanor... Eleanor Vance ordered the doctor to delay the blood transfusions," Genevieve confessed, her voice cracking into a ragged wail. "They wanted Mallory dead so Eleanor could claim guardianship of the unborn heirs! But you took the boys out of Switzerland twelve hours ahead of schedule with your private security, before the probate court could issue an injunction! Julian has the medical logs, Dorian! He’s using them as leverage against Eleanor, but now he wants to destroy the original forensic samples stored in Zurich so no one can ever prove murder!"
I stepped back, the room spinning around me.
Mallory. My gentle, brilliant, beautiful Mallory hadn't succumbed to a tragic twist of fate. She had been assassinated in cold blood by her own mother and stepbrother for control of a family trust.
Yasmin let out a soft, horrified gasp, covering her mouth with her hands.
"Dorian," Genevieve pleaded, reaching out with a blood-stained hand to grasp the hem of my trousers. "I know I was cruel. I know I’m a monster. I wanted your money, I wanted the status, I wanted to hurt anyone who stood between me and that fortune! But I didn't know about Mallory until yesterday! Julian told me if I didn't help him kidnap the boys, he would pin Mallory's murder on me! Please... don't throw me to them. They will skin me alive."
I looked down at her—at the woman who had plotted to exile my sons, who had poured milk over an innocent caregiver, who had lied with every breath she took in my home.
"Marcus," I said, not looking away from her pathetic, shivering form.
"Yes, sir?"
"Put her in the holding cell. Treat the wound. Guard her with four men."
"You're... you're not going to kill me?" Genevieve whispered in disbelief.
"No," I said, my voice echoing with a terrifying finality. "Death is too easy for you, Genevieve. You're going to stay alive. Because you are going to be State’s Witness Number One when I burn Eleanor Vance and Julian Vance to the ground."
The guards lifted her from the chair and dragged her down the corridor toward the holding cells.
I stood alone in the center of the bunker, my hands shaking with an uncontainable, subterranean rage. Mallory's face flashed across my mind—her laughter in the garden, the gentle way she had rested her hands over her swollen belly, the tears in her eyes as she whispered her final words to me in that cold Swiss hospital: Protect our boys, Dorian.
"Dorian," Marcus said gently, placing a steady hand on my shoulder. "What are your orders?"
I turned toward the main console, my eyes blazing with cold, calculated vengeance.
"Call our private aviation wing," I commanded. "Fuel the Gulfstream. We fly to Zurich tonight. Yasmin, pack the boys' essentials. You and the twins are coming with me on the plane."
May you like
Yasmin stepped forward, her eyes clear and resolute despite the terror of the revelation. "Are we safe in Switzerland, Mr. Ashcombe?"
"No," I replied, looking directly into her eyes. "We aren't safe anywhere until this hydra is dead. But I am never letting my sons out of my sight again. And neither will you."
