Chapter 6 - The Unraveling
My mind raced. The study door was solid oak with a commercial-grade mortise lock. The windows looked out over a stone patio twenty feet below—a drop that would mean broken bones.
I ran to Ethan's desk.
On the corner sat a heavy brass paperweight shaped like the Vance Neuro-Tech crest. Beside it was a high-powered laser pointer used for board presentations.
I snatched the paperweight, wrapped it tightly in my cotton caregiving apron to deaden the sound, and smashed it against the antique glass of the window frame.
The glass cracked with a dull THUD. I struck it twice more until a hole large enough for my arm was cleared. Reaching through the broken pane, I unlocked the external window latch, slid the heavy frame upward, and climbed out onto the narrow stone ledge running along the perimeter of the second floor.
The wind whipped my hair across my face as I edged along the narrow stone molding, my fingers digging into the mortar grooves between the bricks. Below me, the estate garden was quiet, illuminated by floodlights.
Ten feet to my left was the balcony of the master suite.
I leaped across the gap, catching the black wrought-iron railing with both hands. Pain shot through my shoulders as my knees slammed against the iron bars, but I hauled myself over the edge, tumbling onto the balcony tile.
I sprinted through Richard's private bedroom, tore open the hallway door, and ran toward the grand staircase.
Downstairs in the banquet hall, Ethan stood near the head of the long oak table, holding a crystal decanter of vintage port wine. He was pouring a glass for Richard, who sat at the end of the table in his wheelchair, looking stoic and defenseless, surrounded by twenty high-level corporate investors.
"A toast," Ethan announced loudly, raising his own glass, "to my brother, Richard. Whose courage in the face of terrible physical tragedy inspires us all to move Vance Neuro-Tech into a prosperous new era with Vitalis Health!"
Ethan extended the poisoned glass of wine toward Richard.
"STOP!" I screamed, my voice echoing like a thunderclap across the vaulted ceiling of the banquet hall.
I sprinted down the grand marble staircase, my tunic torn at the shoulder, my hands covered in gray glass dust, holding the stolen financial folders high above my head.
The entire room fell into stunned, breathless silence.
Ethan's face turned from triumph to pure rage. "Security! Get this crazy woman out of here! She’s been fired!"
Two muscular guards in black suits moved toward me, but before they could lay a finger on me, a deep, resonant voice cut through the air.
"Stand down," Richard commanded.
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He didn't say it quietly. He didn't say it like an invalid.
And then, before the eyes of fifty corporate executives, board members, federal auditors, and his own dumbfounded mother, Richard Vance placed his hands flat on the oak table... and stood up.
