Chapter 9 - Caught in the Act
The heavy wooden doors swung open.
Evelyn slipped inside, her red dress rustling against the doorframe. She closed the door quickly behind her, her face fixed in an expression of faux concern.
"Julian? Why are you still up here? The guests are asking—"
She stopped dead.
I was standing beside the silver catering cart, holding the untouched carton of apple juice in one hand and my phone in the other. Elise stood behind the high-backed armchairs, shielding the twins behind her body like a lioness protecting her cubs.
"Succinylcholine, Evelyn?" I asked, my voice terrifyingly calm. "Is that what you used on Clara, too? Or was thallium easier to slip into her daily vitamins?"
Every drop of color left Evelyn’s face. She froze, her painted red lips parting in shock.
"I... I don't know what you're talking about," she stammered, backing toward the door. "Julian, you're being hysterical. Grief has completely warped your mind—"
"Save it," I barked, stepping toward her with predatory speed. "We intercepted the waiter. He’s currently sitting in the back of an SUV outside with my private security team, singing like a canary about the fifty thousand dollars you wired him from your Caymans shell account three hours ago."
Evelyn hit the locked door with her back. She looked wildly between me and Elise.
"She poisoned your mind!" Evelyn shrieked, pointing a trembling, diamond-encrusted finger at Elise. "That orphan bitch! She’s been trying to steal Clara's life since we were teenagers! My mother gave everything to her filthy mother, and Clara gave everything to her! What about me?! I was Clara's blood! I carried this family's name! And Clara was going to leave forty million dollars to two screaming brats who don't even remember her face!"
The mask hadn't just slipped; it had shattered into jagged, venomous pieces.
"You killed your own sister," I whispered, the sheer monstrosity of it sickening my soul.
"She was weak!" Evelyn screamed, her eyes bulging with unhinged mania. "She was going to die anyway! I just sped up the clock! And if you had any business sense, Julian, you would have married me after she died! We could have merged the estates! But you had to bring *her* into your bed—"
Before she could finish the sentence, the double doors were kicked open from the outside.
Four armed state troopers, flanked by Marcus and two plainclothes detectives, swarmed into the room, their weapons drawn.
"Evelyn Dupont, put your hands behind your back!" the lead detective shouted.
Evelyn shrieked, thrashing wildly as the cold steel handcuffs snapped around her wrists. "Julian! You can't do this! I am a Van Horn! You'll ruin the family name! Julian!"
They dragged her down the hallway, her frantic screams echoing through the country club until the heavy fire doors cut off the sound completely.
In the sudden, hollow silence of the room, Rosie let out a terrified whimper.
Elise immediately dropped to the floor, pulling both little girls into her arms. "It's over, babies. It's okay. You're safe. Elise has you. Daddy has you."
I collapsed to my knees beside them on the carpet. I wrapped my arms around all three of them—my daughters and the woman who had risked her life to save them.
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Tears streamed down Elise's face as she buried her forehead against my shoulder. For the first time in ten months, the weight of the world lifted, replaced by the warmth of living, breathing survival.
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