Chapter 5 - The Storm at Westchester
BANG!
The gun discharged wildly into the plaster ceiling as Nathaniel’s punch connected square with Julian’s jaw.
Julian stumbled backward, crashing through the glass coffee table. Shards of crystal shattered across the hardwood floor. The gun clattered away, sliding beneath the sofa.
Julian groaned, spitting blood, his eyes wild with rage. He scrambled across the broken glass, grabbing a heavy silver candelabra from the side table and swinging it violently toward Nathaniel’s head!
Nathaniel ducked under the heavy metal weapon, grabbed Julian by his expensive suit lapels, and slammed him back against the stone fireplace.
"That was for Eleanor!" Nathaniel roared, smashing his fist into Julian’s ribs!
Julian gasped for air, his face contorting in pain, but he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small tactical knife, flicking the blade open! He slashed wildly, slicing through Nathaniel’s shirt and cutting a deep gash across his forearm!
Nathaniel gritted his teeth against the searing pain. He ignored the blood soaking his sleeve, grabbed Julian’s wrist, and twisted it until the bone popped!
Julian shrieked in agony, dropping the knife onto the rug.
Nathaniel dragged Julian across the floor, hurling him toward the heavy oak doors of the drawing room just as the sound of screaming tires roared up the front driveway outside!
Heavy boots slammed against the front porch steps.
The grand front doors were kicked wide open!
"FEDERAL AGENTS! DON'T MOVE!"
A squad of ten armed FBI tactical officers, wearing black vests with gold lettering, poured into the foyer with rifles raised! Behind them walked Special Agent Miller and Detective Marcus from the State Police Financial Crimes Division.
Clara rushed down the stairs, carrying the tablet displaying the live transmission of the evidence files.
"He's right there!" Clara yelled, pointing at Julian, who was groaning on the floor, clutching his broken wrist.
Agent Miller stepped forward, kicking the tactical knife far out of Julian’s reach, and pressed his boot firmly against Julian’s back, pulling his arms behind him and snapping heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
"Julian Cole," Agent Miller declared loudly. "You are under arrest for federal wire fraud, grand larceny, attempted murder, and the homicide of Eleanor Cole."
Julian turned his bloodied face toward Nathaniel, his eyes filled with venomous hatred. "You think you won, Nathaniel?! You have nothing! You're a broken man!"
Nathaniel walked slowly over to the fallen monster. He looked down at him with no rage left in his eyes—only total, absolute contempt.
"I have my daughter, Julian," Nathaniel said quietly. "And you have a cage."
As the federal agents dragged Julian out through the front doors in chains, Margaret came down the stairs, carrying three-year-old Lily in her arms.
Lily looked around the room with wide, innocent eyes. When she saw Nathaniel standing by the fireplace, holding a blood-stained cloth to his forearm, she wriggled out of Margaret’s arms and ran across the room as fast as her little legs could carry her.
"Daddy!" she cried out.
The word echoed through the grand stone room.
Nathaniel dropped to his knees. He ignored the pain in his arm, throwing his uninjured arm around Lily and pulling her tightly into his chest.
"Daddy's here, sweetheart," Nathaniel sobbed, burying his face in her dark curls. "Daddy's here. You're home now."
May you like
Clara walked over, wiping tears from her face, and knelt beside them. Nathaniel reached out with his other arm, wrapping it around Clara’s shoulders, pulling her into the embrace.
Outside, the last of the rain stopped. The heavy clouds parted over Westchester County, and bright, warm sunlight broke through the glass windows, filling the once-dark mansion with golden light.
