Chapter 11 - Darkness at Crestview
Pain throbbed through Mark’s shoulder, but the adrenaline rushing through his veins burned away the sting. In the pitch blackness, he could hear Toby crying out from near the sofa: "Daddy! Where are you?!"
"Run to the dining room, Toby! Hide under the table!" Mark roared, throwing his body forward into the shadow of Julian Thorne.
Mark tackled Julian into the foyer, both men crashing into a marble side table. A porcelain vase shattered across the floor. Julian hissed in pain, but swung the heavy crowbar sideways, catching Mark across the ribs.
Mark gritted his teeth, refusing to fall. He grabbed Julian's wrist with his left hand, driving his right knee directly into Julian's chest. The older man gasped for air, dropping the crowbar onto the rug.
"You poisoned my wife!" Mark snarled, pinning Julian against the front door, his hand slamming into Julian's throat. "You ruined my family!"
Julian choked, his eyes wild in the dim moonlight filtering through the foyer window. "She... she was dying anyway!" Julian gasped out. "We just... accelerated the timeline!"
A surge of fury erupted within Mark. He pulled back his fist to strike, but suddenly heard a sharp metallic click from behind him.
"Move away from him, Mr. Vance," a cold, smooth voice commanded from the top of the stairs.
Mark froze, slowly turning his head.
Standing on the staircase landing, holding a flashlight in one hand and a small black pistol in the other, was Richard Sterling—Vanessa’s lawyer.
Mark’s eyes narrowed into slits. "Sterling? You're in on this too?"
"Of course he is," Julian coughed, pushing Mark away as he caught his breath. "Who do you think set up the shell corporations in the Caymans? Who do you think cleared the legal path for Gregory Hall's estate seven years ago?"
Sterling stepped down the stairs calmly, keeping the gun trained on Mark's chest. "It was supposed to be a simple financial acquisition, Mark. Vanessa was supposed to drain your liquid assets, take half the estate in a quiet settlement, and disappear. But she got sloppy. And you... you were far too persistent."
"You won't get away with this," Mark said, slowly taking a step backward to position himself between Sterling and the direction where Toby was hiding. "The police know about the Caymans. They know about Julian's medical logs."
"The police know nothing until the toxicology results come back next week," Sterling replied smoothly. "And unfortunately, tonight, a tragic domestic fire will consume this residence. A grieving, unstable husband, suffering from depression after his wife's arrest, set fire to his own house with himself and his son inside."
"You sick bastard," Mark hissed.
Out of the darkness near the kitchen entrance, a tiny voice whimpered: "Daddy...?"
Sterling turned his flashlight beam toward the sound, illuminating four-year-old Toby crouching behind the kitchen island, his eyes wide with horror.
"Ah," Sterling smiled coldly, raising the pistol toward the boy. "The little witness."
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"NO!" Mark roared.
Mark didn't hesitate. He hurled his entire body across the foyer, launching himself directly at Sterling just as a loud gunshot shattered the night.
