I backed away until the edge of the mattress hit the back of my legs. My pulse hammered in my ears, but I refused to let him see me break. I slid the tablet under the pillow behind me, keeping my expression entirely blank.
“You killed them,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “Nathan wasn’t an accident, and Mom didn’t die of a heart attack.”
Marcus chuckled, a dry, lifeless sound that sent shivers down my spine. He took a slow sip from his glass and walked toward the window, looking out over the manicured lawn.
“Your mother was getting greedy, Chloe,” he said casually, as if talking about the weather. “She started asking questions about your father’s trust fund. And Nathan… well, Nathan was always too curious for his own good. He found the missing offshore transfers first. I had no choice.”
“And what about me?” I asked, holding his gaze. “Was I supposed to be next after you signed the inheritance papers?”
Marcus turned to face me, a chilling smile playing on his lips. “You were supposed to be the grieving, unstable widow who tragically surrendered power of attorney to her loving husband. But you had to dig. You just couldn’t let it go.”
He set his glass down on the nightstand and stepped closer, reaching into his inner jacket pocket. My heart leaped into my throat as I braced myself to fight for my life.
Instead of a weapon, Marcus pulled out a syringe pre-filled with a clear liquid. “A massive overdose of sedatives,” he said smoothly. “The police will think the grief of losing your entire family in three months was simply too much for you to handle.”
“You won’t get away with this, Marcus,” I said, stepping backward toward the nightstand.
“I already have,” he replied, lunging forward to grab my arm.
I dodged to the left, grabbing a heavy crystal vase off the bedside table, and smashed it directly against the side of his face. Marcus grunted in pain, staggering backward as blood pooled from a gash on his cheek. The syringe slipped from his fingers, rolling across the hardwood floor.
Before he could recover, I lunged for the door, but he lunged faster, grabbing my ankle and pulling me hard onto the floor. I kicked wildly, my heel catching him straight in the jaw. He let go with a groan, and I scrambled to my feet, yanking the extra key I had hidden inside my sleeve days ago out of my pocket. I unlocked the bedroom door, threw it open, and ran down the stairs.
Marcus was right behind me, his heavy footsteps echoing on the wooden steps. “Chloe! Stop!” he roared, his voice filled with rage.
I slammed into the front doors, pulling them open just as Marcus reached the foyer. He grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around and pinning me against the entryway wall. His hands clamped around my throat, shutting off my air supply.
“You ruined everything!” he snarled, his eyes bulging with fury.
Suddenly, flashing red and blue lights illuminated the front windows. The sound of heavy footsteps stormed up the front porch, followed by a loud, authoritative voice shouting over a megaphone: “FBI! Open the door immediately! Hands where we can see them!”
Marcus froze, his grip loosening on my neck. He looked out the window in sheer disbelief as armed federal agents surrounded the house.
I choked for air, pushing him away as the front door was kicked wide open. Tactical agents flooded the hallway, rifles raised, pinning Marcus to the floor before he could even process what was happening.
Lead Investigator Miller stepped inside, looking directly at me. “Are you alright, Mrs. Vance?”
I nodded, rubbing my bruised throat. “I’m fine. The digital evidence is on the tablet upstairs, and the original recording is on his phone.”
Marcus thrased under the weight of the officers, staring at me in utter shock. “How… how did they get here so fast?” he rasped from the floor.
I leaned down, looking straight into the eyes of the monster who had destroyed my family.
“The audio file at the funeral wasn’t played by an accident, Marcus,” I said softly, my voice dripping with cold satisfaction. “I hacked the church’s sound system from my phone before the service started. And the text message about the casket lining? I scheduled that to send to my own phone to make sure you followed me where the cameras couldn’t see.”
Marcus stared at me, his face draining of all color as he realized he had walked straight into my trap.
“I’ve been working with the FBI for the past month,” I continued, leaning in close. “We needed you to confess on tape to secure a capital murder charge. Thank you for making it so easy in the bedroom.”
I tapped my lapel, revealing a micro-microphone clipped beneath my collar.
Marcus let out a guttural scream of rage as the agents pulled him to his feet and marched him out the front door in handcuffs.
I walked out onto the porch, taking a deep breath of the cool evening air. For the first time in months, the heavy weight in my chest lifted. My mother and brother were finally getting the justice they deserved, and Marcus Vance was going away for the rest of his life.
