Chapter 16 - The Rescue and the Secret Recording
Time seemed to slow down to a crawl as Julian's steel pipe swung downward toward my head. I threw my arms up, bracing for impact, but before the blow could land, a heavy shadow tackled Julian violently from the side.
Marcus Vance crashed into Julian, sending both men sprawling hard across the glass coffee table, shattering it into a thousand glittering shards. Julian grunted in pain, dropping the steel pipe as Marcus pinned his arm behind his back with military precision.
'Stay down, you lunatic!' Marcus barked, pressing his knee firmly into Julian's spine.
I stood there, breathing heavily, my hands trembling slightly as I lowered the brass letter opener. 'Marcus... how did you get here so fast?'%
Marcus panted, keeping Julian pinned while pulling a walkie-talkie from his coat pocket. 'I never left the building, Claire. When the appellate judge granted that emergency bail hearing this afternoon, I had a bad feeling. I doubled our private security detail outside your office.'%
Sirens wailed in the street below as flashing red and blue lights painted the office walls. Within seconds, multiple armed police officers rushed through the broken doorway, swarming over Julian and slapping heavy steel zip-ties around his wrists.
As they hauled him away, Julian glared back at me with pure, unadulterated venom, screaming bloody murder at the top of his lungs.
'You won't win, Claire! This isn't over! I recorded everything! I have your father's secret confessions on tape!'%
I paused, narrowing my eyes. 'What did you say?'%
Julian laughed hysterically as the officers dragged him out the door. 'Check your private safe, Claire! The real will is still out there!'%
When the room fell silent again, Marcus looked at me with deep concern. 'Don't listen to him, Claire. He's completely delusional. He'll spend the next twenty years in a psychiatric cell.'%
'Maybe,' I murmured, walking slowly over to my father's old wall safe behind the mahogany painting. 'But let's check anyway.'%
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I dialed the combination my father had given me on my tenth birthday. The heavy steel door swung open. Inside, sitting neatly on a velvet tray, was a small microcassette recorder and a single flash drive labeled simply: For Claire — The Truth About Everything.
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