Chapter 10 - Justice and Ash
The gunshot deafened the room.
I braced for the impact, but the bullet tore into the bookshelf behind me, sending a cloud of shredded paper and plaster rain down upon us.
Before Eleanor could cock the hammer again, two tactical officers crashed through the study’s bay windows, accompanied by the deafening roar of stun grenades.
"Drop the weapon! Drop it now!"
Eleanor screamed as a flashbang detonated, dropping the revolver to the Persian rug. Within seconds, three officers tackled her to the floor, pinning her limbs and wrenching her arms behind her back with brutal precision.
Detective Miller stormed into the room, his weapon drawn, kicking the revolver away from Eleanor’s reaching fingers.
"Eleanor Vance, you are under arrest for attempted murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and the first-degree murder of Robert Vance," Miller barked, hauling her up by her collar.
Eleanor didn't look at the police. Her wild, hateful eyes locked onto mine. "You won't get a penny! I hid it all! You’ll starve, Emily! You’ll starve in the street!"
"Take her away," Miller ordered coldly.
As they dragged her through the shattered hallway, David breathed a ragged sigh of relief, dropping the fireplace poker to the floor. "Are you alright?"
I looked at the mahogany chest on Dad’s desk. The ledgers were safe. The Zurich lab report was secured. The nightmare of the last forty-eight hours had dismantled twenty years of lies in a single stroke.
"I'm alive," I said softly, touching the bandage over my ear. "And Dad finally gets his justice."
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Six weeks later, the District Attorney’s office finalized the indictments. Vanessa, facing twenty years for assault with a deadly weapon, perjury, and conspiracy, took a plea deal that required her to testify against our mother. Eleanor was charged with capital murder for Dad's arsenic poisoning, facing life without the possibility of parole.
The court cleared my name entirely, releasing Dad's full estate, the family home, and the three-million-dollar trust to my sole ownership. I began my physical therapy to adapt to the partial hearing loss, determined that the scars on my body would serve as armor, not a weakness.
