Chapter 2 - The RaidGraham dropped the napkin. He turned toward the dining room entrance, his face draining of all color.
“What—who is that?” Graham whispered, stumbling backward.
Before he could reach the side door, Damon burst into the dining room, his service weapon drawn and aimed squarely at Graham’s chest. Behind him, three uniformed officers flooded the room, securing the perimeters and rushing toward my motionless body.
“Don’t move! Hands where I can see them!” Damon barked, scanning the room before his eyes locked onto me.
The cold fury on Damon’s face was unmistakable. He holstered his weapon in a single fluid motion and dropped to his knees beside me, pressing two fingers against my carotid artery.
“Get the paramedics in here now!” Damon shouted over his shoulder. “We have a severe anaphylactic shock and chemical burn victim! Move, move, move!”
Paramedics rushed through the doorway with an emergency trauma kit. Within seconds, an epinephrine auto-injector was driven into my thigh, followed by an oxygen mask clamped over my face. The agonizing constriction in my throat slowly began to ease, and a rush of cold air flooded my burning lungs.
Constance appeared at the doorway, her face twisted in theatrical shock and haughty outrage.
“What is the meaning of this?!” Constance demanded, her voice shrill as she pointed a trembling finger at Damon. “Who gave you permission to break into a private home? How dare you—!”
Damon stood up slowly. He didn't look like a local beat cop; he looked like a senior investigator who had just found the exact confession he needed. He walked straight toward Constance, pulling a small digital tablet from his coat pocket.
“Mrs. Wycliffe,” Damon said coldly, his voice dripping with venom. “You are currently standing in a room equipped with four separate, high-definition audio and video recording devices transmitting live to a secure off-site federal server.”
Constance’s pristine composure faltered for a fraction of a second. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
“We heard the poison,” Damon continued, stepping closer until she was forced to retreat a step. “We heard the refusal to provide medical aid. And, most importantly, we heard you instruct your son to let your daughter-in-law die for an insurance payout.”
Graham stumbled forward, shaking his head frantically. “No! It wasn't me! It was her! Mother planned the whole thing! She forged the documents!”
Constance glared at her son with pure, unadulterated contempt. “You pathetic, spineless fool,” she hissed.
“Cuff them both,” Damon ordered the officers.
May you like
As the cold steel bracelets snapped around Constance and Graham’s wrists, I was lifted onto a gurney. I turned my head slightly, looking up at Damon through half-closed eyes. He gave me a reassuring nod, his eyes promising justice.
As the paramedics wheeled me out into the rainy night toward the waiting ambulance, I knew the game was finally over.
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