“You set us up!” Grant shrieked.
The arrogant, smug bully who had laughed while a child cried was completely, utterly annihilated. His voice pitched upward into a pathetic, hysterical squeal of pure panic as the distant, unmistakable wail of police sirens began to pierce the quiet suburban night.
“Daniel set you up,” I corrected him smoothly, stepping closer to the cowering man. “I’m just executing the will.”
I turned my fierce, unwavering gaze to Marjorie.
The matriarch was hyperventilating, clutching her chest, her eyes darting wildly around the porch as the reality of her impending poverty and prison sentence crashed down upon her. She had built her entire life on the illusion of wealth and control, and in a matter of five minutes, it had all been reduced to ash.
“I think you need to leave, Marjorie,” I said, my voice echoing with absolute finality. “You are trespassing on my property. Take your garbage, and get out.”
The wail of the sirens grew deafening.
Two heavily marked police cruisers tore into the long driveway, their red and blue lights strobing violently, washing over the pale, terrified faces of my in-laws. The vehicles screeched to a halt right behind Sterling’s armored SUV.
Four uniformed officers swarmed out of the cars, rushing up the stone steps onto the porch.
“Grant Vale?” the lead officer barked, his hand resting firmly on the grip of his holstered weapon. He didn’t ask a question; it was a command.
“Yes! But this is a mistake!” Grant babbled frantically, holding his hands up in surrender as two officers grabbed his arms and spun him around, forcing him face-first against the heavy oak doors of the mansion.
“You are under arrest for suspicion of felony fraud, forgery, and attempted grand larceny,” the officer recited loudly as the cold steel handcuffs clicked brutally shut around Grant’s wrists.
“Lena! Tell them!” Grant sobbed, tears streaming down his face, completely destroying his high-society facade in front of the relatives who were now peering horrified out of the foyer windows. “We were joking! We didn’t mean it! Tell them it’s a misunderstanding! I’m your brother!”
I didn’t answer him. I looked at the second pair of officers.
“And Marjorie Vale,” the second officer said, grabbing my mother-in-law’s arm roughly. “You are under arrest for aggravated assault on a minor.”
“I’m an old woman!” Marjorie shrieked hysterically, thrashing wildly against the officer, her expensive silk dress twisting awkwardly. “I’m a grieving mother! My son just died! You can’t do this to me!”
She stopped struggling for a moment, her eyes locking onto me. The sheer, unadulterated desperation in her gaze was pathetic.
“Lena, please!” Marjorie begged, weeping openly now, the realization that her comfortable life was over completely breaking her. “I have no money! The accounts are frozen! I have nowhere to go! Please, we’re family! You can’t let them take me to jail!”
I looked down at Eli. My brave, quiet son was holding my hand tightly, his small body pressed against my leg. He was watching the woman who had hurt him being dragged away in handcuffs, his wide eyes processing the sudden, terrifying shift in power.
I looked back up at the woman who had demanded I take my “garbage” and leave.
“You shouldn’t have hit my son,” I said coldly, completely devoid of any pity or mercy. “Enjoy the settlement.”
I turned my back on them. I didn’t stay to watch them be stuffed roughly into the back of the police cruisers, their screams fading behind the heavy glass of the squad cars.
I picked Eli up, settling his small, warm body against my chest. I kissed his forehead, right above the fading red handprint.
I walked back through the massive oak front doors of my home. The relatives in the foyer parted for me in absolute, terrified silence, realizing they were standing in the presence of the new, undisputed monarch of the Vale empire.
The heavy wood of the front door slammed shut behind me. The deadbolts clicked securely into place.
The house was quiet again. I carried Eli upstairs to his bedroom, tucked him safely into his warm bed, and sat with him until his breathing evened out, promising him repeatedly that no one would ever, ever hurt him again.
As I walked slowly down the long, carpeted hallway to the master suite, the crushing, agonizing weight of grief for my husband returned. The adrenaline faded, leaving me hollow. But as I opened the door to our bedroom, I realized something profound.
The grief was deep, but it was no longer tainted by fear. The monsters were locked outside the gates, and the fortress was secure.
