Chapter 6 - THE FADED TICKET
Dominic's smile vanished the moment he saw the heavy leather book in my hands.
Claire stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. "Where did you get that, Evelyn?"
"It doesn't matter," I said, keeping my voice steady, praying the microphone under my silver bracelet was picking up every word. "I have it. You want it. Let Vincent go, and you can take over the city."
Vincent shook his head, blood dripping from his chin. "Evie, don't do this. He won't let us walk away."
"Shut up, old man," Dominic snarled, backhanding Vincent across the face.
I flinched but held my ground.
"Don't touch him!" I shouted.
Dominic laughed, walking slowly toward me. "You're brave tonight, Evelyn. But you're missing a key piece of the puzzle. I don't need to trade you for the book. I can just take it off your corpse."
He pulled his gun and leveled it at my forehead.
"Dominic, wait!" Claire snapped, grabbing his arm. "If she dies before she signs the corporate transfer papers, the legitimate businesses revert to Anthony in a trust. We need her signature."
Dominic glared at her, then lowered the gun slightly.
"Fine. Sign the papers, Evelyn."
"Confess first," I said.
Dominic raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"I want to hear you say it," I said, forcing a hysterical tremble into my voice to play the part of a broken woman. "I want to hear you admit that you set this up. That Claire isn't carrying Vincent's baby. That you faked everything."
Claire laughed softly. "Oh, Evelyn. Always so desperate for the moral high ground."
She walked up to me, her fake maternity bump completely gone, replaced by a sleek black dress.
"There is no baby," Claire smiled. "There was never a secret marriage to Vincent. We forged the documents. We paid off a judge to backdate a marriage certificate so I would have legal claim to his estate when he 'tragically' passed away."
Dominic smirked. "It was brilliant. A perfect inside job."
Got it, I thought. The FBI strike team was listening to every word.
"And my mother's fire?" I asked.
"My idea," Claire admitted coldly. "The old bat found out I was sleeping with Dominic. She was going to tell Vincent. So I made sure she couldn't."
Vincent stared at Claire, his bruised face twisting in pure disgust. "You tried to burn your own mother alive."
"It's business, Vincent," Claire shrugged.
I took a deep breath. Celeste had the audio. Now we just needed the strike team.
"Take the book," I said, tossing the heavy ledger onto a nearby crate.
Dominic eagerly holstered his weapon and reached for the book.
Suddenly, a massive spotlight flooded the warehouse from the upper catwalks.
"FBI! DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" a voice boomed over a megaphone.
Doors shattered open. Dozens of tactical agents poured into the warehouse, laser sights cutting through the fog.
Dominic froze. Panic flashed across his face.
He looked at me, realizing he'd been set up.
With a roar of rage, he drew his gun and aimed straight at my chest.
"No!" Vincent screamed.
My husband threw his entire body weight backward, snapping the wooden legs of the chair he was tied to. He launched himself between me and Dominic just as the gun went off.
The gunshot deafened me.
Vincent collapsed heavily into my arms.
"Vincent!" I screamed, dropping to the floor with him.
Agents tackled Dominic to the ground before he could fire again. Claire was shrieking as they slammed her against the wall and cuffed her.
I pressed my hands against Vincent's chest. Blood was soaking through his white shirt.
"Stay with me," I sobbed, pressing hard on the wound. "Please, Vincent, stay with me."
He looked up at me, his breathing shallow, and managed a weak, bloody smile.
He reached into his jacket pocket with a trembling hand and pulled out a faded, folded piece of paper.
He pressed it into my palm.
"I... always... loved you," he whispered.
Then his eyes rolled back, and he went completely still.
I unfolded the paper as the paramedics rushed in.
May you like
It was a faded train ticket to Paris. Dated exactly seventeen years ago. The honeymoon we never got to take because his father died and he inherited the syndicate.
Written on the back in his handwriting:One day, I will free us. I promise.
