Chapter 8 - THE RECKONING
The Hail family mansion in Beacon Hill was lit up like a Christmas tree as Richard Hail frantically packed leather suitcases with cash, gold, and passports.
Vivien sat on a velvet sofa, sipping gin, her hands shaking violently. "Dad! Are the men sure they got her?! Did they catch the maid?!"
"Yes, yes!" Richard yelled, zipping a briefcase. "Once we have her in our international safe house, Ronan will have to surrender the northern docks to get her back!"
BOOM!
The massive iron front doors of the mansion were blown off their hinges by an explosive charge, sending wood splinters and dust flying through the foyer.
Vivien screamed, dropping her glass.
Through the heavy smoke walked Ronan Blackwood, carrying a heavy steel tactical shotgun in his right hand. Beside him walked Ivy, wrapped in Ronan’s warm black coat, flanked by fifteen armed enforcers.
Richard Hail backed away into the center of the living room, his face draining of all color. "Ronan! How... how did you find us?!"
Ronan didn't answer. He walked into the center of the room, racking the shotgun with a lethal CLACK-CLACK that echoed through the marble hall.
Vivien looked at Ivy, her eyes wide with shock and pure rage. "You... you brought her here?!"
Ivy stepped forward from behind Ronan, holding her head high, her dark eyes cold and unwavering as she looked at the woman who had struck her with a whip a month ago.
"You tried to destroy my life, Miss Hail," Ivy said, her voice strong and steady. "You thought because I was poor, because I was soft, that I wouldn't fight back."
"You're nothing!" Vivien shrieked hysterically. "You're a fat, disgusting servant girl!"
SLAP!
Ivy stepped up and delivered a resounding, powerful slap across Vivien’s face.
The force of the blow knocked Vivien off her feet, sending her crashing onto the Persian rug, clutching her bleeding lip in shock.
"That was for the whip," Ivy said calmly.
Ronan looked down at Ivy, a look of immense pride and fiery love gleaming in his gray eyes. He then turned his shotgun toward Richard Hail.
"Your company is bankrupt, Richard," Ronan stated coldly. "Your men are dead. And federal agents are currently raiding your private accounts for human trafficking and syndicate corruption."
Richard collapsed onto his knees, weeping like a child. "Please, Ronan... spare us! Don't kill us!"
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"I won't kill you, Richard," Ronan sneered, lowering the weapon. "Death is too merciful. You and your daughter will spend the next thirty years in a federal penitentiary."
FBI tactical teams swarmed into the house seconds later, placing handcuffs on Richard and the screaming Vivien Hail, dragging them out into the rainy night.
