Chapter 6 - The Glass Explodes
The sound of shattering glass echoed through the massive mansion like a bomb going off. Martha, the housekeeper, screamed from the kitchen as I barreled down the hallway, leaving a trail of destruction in my wake.
I reached the heavy oak doors of the study. They were locked from the inside.
Without hesitating, I raised the heavy metal tire iron and slammed it into the ornate brass handle, splintering the wood. I threw my entire body weight against the frame. With a loud, violent CRACK, the door burst open, slamming against the interior wall.
Richard was standing by the piano, his hands still hovering near Chloe, who was cowering on the floor behind the piano bench, sobbing hysterically.
When Richard saw me standing in the doorway, covered in glass dust, holding a metal weapon, his face twisted in a mixture of shock and immediate legal defense.
“Harrison!” Richard thundered, stepping in front of Chloe to block my path. “Have you lost your mind?! You just committed a violent home invasion! I will have you locked in a state penitentiary before sundown! Get out of my house!”
I didn't say a word. I walked past him, my focus entirely on the terrified little girl on the floor. I dropped the tire iron onto the carpet, knelt down, and pulled Chloe into my arms. She clung to me, her entire body shaking with violent, traumatic sobs.
“Dad! Dad, he hurt me again!” she wailed into my chest.
“I know, baby. I know. I’ve got you,” I murmured, kissing her head.
I stood up, keeping Chloe securely behind me, and turned to face the retired federal judge.
Richard was already on his phone, dialing a direct number. “Yes, this is Judge Sterling. I have an active intruder at my residence. Harrison Vance has experienced a psychotic break. Send immediate units to my address.”
He hung up, looking at me with a smug, superior grin. “You’re finished, Harrison. You just handed me custody of this child on a silver platter. Meredith will divorce you by tomorrow morning once she sees the police report of your violent outburst.”
“Look at your desk, Richard,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet.
Richard frowned, his eyes darting toward his mahogany desk. His gaze landed on the crystal paperweight I had given him.
“The silver base,” I continued, a cold smile touching my lips. “It’s a high-definition cellular camera. It’s been broadcasting to a secure federal cloud server for the last forty minutes. We have you on video, Richard. We have the audio of your threats. We have the exact moment you grabbed my daughter and left those handprints on her skin.”
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The smug grin vanished from Richard’s face. The silver hair seemed to lose its luster as the reality of his situation crashed down upon him. He took a step toward the desk, intending to smash the paperweight, but before he could touch it, the sound of blaring sirens cut through the evening air.
Dozens of them. And they weren't the local police units he controlled. They were State Trooper cruisers, accompanied by a Child Protective Services transport vehicle, arranged directly by Marcus Kane’s federal contacts.
