Chapter 9 - The Final Confrontation
Before David could grab his coat, the sound of screeching tires tore through the driveway outside.
A loud crash shook the front porch as a heavy SUV slammed directly into the front steps. Glass shattered in the entryway.
"Emily!" Eleanor’s voice shrieked from the hallway. It didn't sound human. It sounded like a rabid animal cornered in a trap. "Give me that box! Give it to me or neither of us walks out of this house alive!"
David grabbed a heavy iron poker from the fireplace, pushing me behind him. "Stay back, Emily! Call 911!"
Eleanor burst into the study. Her hair was wild, her eyes bloodshot and dilated with maniacal fury. In her right hand, she held Dad’s old .38 revolver—the one he kept locked in the basement safe.
"You ruined everything!" she screamed, leveling the barrel straight at my chest. "Twenty years I gave that pathetic man! Twenty years of playing the dutiful housewife while he counted every cent! Vanessa deserved that money! She’s my daughter!"
"And what was I, Eleanor?" I screamed back, stepping out from behind David despite his frantic attempts to shield me. The pain in my ear was gone, replaced by an inferno of pure rage. "Was I just a piggy bank? A scapegoat for your murder?"
Eleanor laughed—a high, fractured cackle. "Your father was weak. Just like you. He thought he could cut us out. He thought he could send me to prison! He took his sweet time dying, complaining about stomach cramps every night while I seasoned his soup."
"You confessed," David said loudly, holding up his phone. The screen displayed an active call to Detective Miller's dispatch line. "Every word is being recorded by the precinct, Eleanor."
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Eleanor froze. The realization hit her, followed immediately by pure, unhinged madness. Her finger tightened on the trigger. "Then you die first, Emily!"
BANG!
