Chapter 5 - The Glass Shatters
The aftershocks of the gala rippled through Charleston within hours. By dawn, local headlines were screaming rumors of the "Resurrected Montgomery Heiress." But behind the glittering facade, the danger became instantly lethal.
Lucia had taken refuge in Beatriz’s secure townhouse in the French Quarter. The wrought-iron gates were locked, but Lucia couldn't shake the sensation of crosshairs resting between her shoulder blades.
At 10:00 AM, a courier arrived with a sealed envelope. Inside was an official summons from the Charleston Probate Court, alongside a private note written on thick cream stationery:
>*"The Genetic Testing Institute on Broad Street. 2:00 PM today. If you want your name, bring your blood. Come alone, or your dear 'mother' Clara won't live to see the sunset. — Victoria"*
"It’s an ambush," Beatriz said, snatching the note from Lucia’s hands. "She has connections at that clinic. She’ll tamper with the swab, declare you a fraud, and have you arrested for criminal extortion before you can even appeal."
"I know," Lucia replied, looking out the second-story bay window. "That’s why I called Julian."
"Julian?" Beatriz raised an eyebrow skeptically. "He’s Arthur’s son! He stands to inherit half the empire if you are eliminated."
"He was the only one who stepped in front of those guards last night," Lucia said. "He looked at Victoria like he finally realized he was living with monsters. If Julian is complicit, I’m dead anyway. But if he has a conscience, he’s our only way inside."
Thirty minutes later, Lucia’s phone buzzed with an unknown number.
"Don't go to the clinic on Broad Street," Julian’s voice came through the receiver, rushed and low. "My aunt paid the lab director fifty thousand dollars this morning to contaminate the sample with synthetic DNA. If you show up there, the state troopers will have a warrant waiting."
Lucia gripped the phone. "Where do we go?"
"Meet me at the State Forensic Lab in Columbia," Julian instructed. "The director there is an old classmate of mine from law school. Victoria has no reach there. I took a hair follicle sample from my father’s comb this morning. If we match your DNA against mine and his under independent state supervision, she can't buy her way out of it."
"Why are you helping me, Julian?" Lucia asked, testing the waters. "If I win, you lose half your inheritance."
A heavy sigh drifted over the line. "Because for twenty years, I watched my mother drink herself into an early grave over Eleanor’s death. She knew something was rotten in this family, and it broke her. I don't care about the money, Lucia. I care about the truth."
Lucia hung up, turning to Beatriz. "We’re going to Columbia."
Before Beatriz could pack the court documents, the deafening crash of shattered glass echoed from the ground floor. The townhouse alarm shrieked into the air. Heavy footsteps thundered up the wooden staircase.
"Through the sunroom!" Beatriz yelled, shoving Lucia toward the back terrace that connected to the neighboring rooftop. "Go, Lucia! Run!"
Two masked men in black tactical gear burst into the hallway, brandishing silenced pistols. One lunged for Lucia’s satchel containing Eleanor’s diary. Lucia swung the heavy iron bookend from the console table with all her strength, striking the assailant across the temple. He collapsed with a groan, dropping his weapon.
The second man aimed his gun directly at Lucia’s chest. "Drop the bag, Miss Montgomery."
A deafening crack rang out—not from the intruder’s gun, but from behind him. Beatriz stood at the threshold of the bedroom holding an antique double-barreled hunting shotgun, smoke trailing from one barrel. The buckshot had pulverized the doorframe an inch from the attacker's ear, showering him in splintered oak.
"Get out of my house before I use the second barrel," the elderly archivist roared like a wounded lioness.
The intruder hesitated, cursed violently, grabbed his stunned partner, and scrambled down the stairs.
Lucia stood trembling, the adrenaline surging through her veins. Beatriz looked at her, entirely unbothered, though her pearls swung wildly against her silk blouse.
May you like
"Well," Beatriz said dryly, breaking open the shotgun to check the remaining shell. "It seems Aunt Victoria is getting impatient. Let’s not keep your cousin waiting."
***
