CHAPTER 7: THE CONFRONTATION
Vivian stepped into the room, the revolver aimed directly at my chest.
Her green dress was immaculate, her hair perfect, her smile cold.
"Did you really think you could just walk back into my house and steal what's mine?"
"This isn't yours," I said. "It's my father's. And I'm taking it back."
"Your father is dead. And soon, so will you."
Vivian glanced at Mark.
"You must be the detective. I've heard about you. You're very nosy."
"I'm just doing my job," Mark said.
"Your job is about to get you killed."
Mark didn't flinch.
"Put the gun down, Mrs. Wakefield. We have evidence of your crimes. You're not getting out of this."
Vivian laughed.
"Evidence? You mean that folder? I'll burn it as soon as I'm done with you."
"You'll have to get through me first."
Vivian's smile widened.
"Oh, I plan to."
She pointed the gun at Mark.
I saw her finger tighten on the trigger.
And without thinking, I lunged.
I threw myself at her, knocking her off balance. The gun fired—once, twice—but the bullets went wild, tearing through the ceiling.
We crashed to the floor.
I fought for control of the gun, my hands grasping hers, my body screaming in pain.
"Claire!" Mark shouted.
"Help me!"
Mark rushed over, and together, we wrestled the gun away from her.
Vivian was still fighting, still screaming, still swearing.
"You'll never get away with this! I'll kill you all!"
I grabbed the folder, got to my feet, and looked down at her.
"I already have," I said.
And I walked out of the room.
Behind me, I heard Mark reading Vivian her rights.
And I smiled.
May you like
It was over.
Finally, it was over.
