Chapter 4 - The Kitchen Trap
The commercial kitchen was a labyrinth of stainless-steel countertops, walk-in freezers, and hanging copper cookware.
Victoria was breathing heavily, frantically trying to open the heavy steel emergency exit at the far end of the room. But my estate security system had already placed the entire property on automated lockdown—the heavy deadbolts were fire-locked from the inside.
She rattled the bar wildly, her manicured nails snapping down to the quick. Blood welled beneath her acrylics, but she didn't seem to notice.
“Open the door! Open the damn door!” she shrieked, slamming her fists against the metal.
I walked slowly through the double doors, letting them swing shut behind me. The noise of the panicked guests and federal agents in the ballroom faded into a dull, distant hum.
“There’s nowhere to go, Victoria,” I said, stopping ten feet away near a butcher block table.
She spun around. Her dark hair was wildly disheveled, her expensive mascara smudged down her cheeks, her red dress torn open at the hip. She didn't look like a Bel-Air princess anymore. She looked like a trapped animal.
“You think you’re so smart, don't you?” she spat, her voice dropping into a raspy, venomous sneer. “You think you’re a genius because you found a few files?”
“I know you killed my father,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite the rage burning in my chest. “I know you pushed Clara down those stairs because she found out you were poisoning my evening tea with thallium to make me look mentally unstable before the wedding.”
Victoria let out a cold, sharp laugh that sounded completely insane.
“Your father was an obstacle!” she yelled, stepping toward me, her eyes wild. “He was an old fool who stood in the way of progress! Sterling Dynamics needed Vance Logistics’ shipping routes to move our military hardware across the Pacific! He refused our offer three times! He deserved to burn in that car!”
“And Clara?” I asked softly. “She was twenty-two. She was completely innocent.”
“She was a rat!” Victoria screamed. “She was sneaking into my room, copying my drives, placing keyloggers on my laptop! I should have broken her neck the first week she worked here!”
She suddenly reached behind her waist, pulling a small, pearl-handled .22 caliber pistol from a hidden garter strap under her red silk dress.
May you like
She aimed the barrel directly at my forehead.
“Open the security lockdown, Ethan,” she whispered, her finger tightening on the trigger. “Or your little illegitimate sister won't be the only Vance who died today.”
