Chapter 3 - The Confrontation in the Dark
The basement was dimly lit, smelling of damp concrete and chemical fumes. Jordan rushed down the stairs, three police officers hot on his heels.
At the bottom of the steps, Patricia stood holding Emma by the collar of her pajamas. In her other hand, she held a flickering silver lighter, hovering dangerously close to the girl's damp clothing. Paige stood behind her, holding a secondary canister of the solvent.
"Stay back!" Patricia screamed, her eyes wide and manic. "Tell Aaron if he doesn't drop the lawsuits, if he doesn't transfer the corporate shares to Natalie’s name tonight, this whole place goes up! I’ll do it! I swear to God I will!"
"Patricia, drop the lighter," Jordan said, his voice dropping to a low, lethal baritone. He raised his weapon, aligning the sights directly between the older woman’s eyes. "You are completely surrounded. There are twenty armed men in this house. Your daughters are already in handcuffs upstairs."
"They won't jail all of us! Natalie is his wife! She owns half of everything!" Patricia shrieked, her hand trembling. The flame of the lighter danced precariously close to Emma’s sleeve.
Emma looked up through her tears, seeing Jordan. "Uncle Jordan!" she cried out.
"Quiet!" Paige snapped, grabbing Emma’s arm.
Just then, the sound of tearing tires echoed from the driveway outside, followed by the heavy slam of an SUV door. Heavy, frantic footsteps pounded through the upper floor, moving with terrifying speed toward the basement stairs.
Aaron burst into the basement, his suit jacket gone, his white shirt wrinkled and stained with sweat. His face was pale, his eyes wide as he took in the scene: his mother-in-law threatening his daughter with an open flame.
"Aaron," Patricia laughed, a shrill, unstable sound. "Look who decided to show up. You think you’re so smart with your airplanes and your billions. But right now, I hold the match."
Aaron didn't look at Patricia. He looked directly at Emma. "Emma, look at me," he said, his voice suddenly incredibly gentle, completely contrasting the fury in his eyes. "Look at Daddy, sweetheart. Don't look at the light. Just look at me."
Emma locked eyes with her father, her sobbing slowing down slightly.
"Aaron, sign the papers! I know you have your digital attorney on the phone!" Patricia demanded.
"You want the money, Patricia?" Aaron asked, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. Jordan shifted his stance, keeping his weapon trained. "You want the Ashford fortune? It's yours. All of it. Just let her go."
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. "Look, I'm transferring the primary trust fund routing now."
Patricia’s eyes greedily darted down to Aaron’s phone screen for a fraction of a second.
That split second was all Jordan needed.
A loud BANG echoed through the concrete room as a non-lethal beanbag round fired from a police tactical shotgun struck Patricia squarely in the chest. The force threw her backward against the wall, the lighter flying from her grip and skittering harmlessly across the damp floor.
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Before Paige could react, Aaron vaulted over the basement railing, tackling her to the ground. He threw her off his daughter, scooping Emma into his arms and pulling her tightly against his chest as the police flooded the room, pinning Patricia and Paige to the floor amid screams of pain and curses.
"I've got you, baby. Daddy's here," Aaron whispered, burying his face in his daughter’s hair, tears finally spilling over his eyelids. "I've got you. You're safe."
