Chapter 4: The Confrontation

Richard wasn’t wearing his expensive suit anymore.

He was wearing dark slacks, and his sleeves were rolled up.

In his right hand, he held a heavy, gleaming silver revolver.

“I told you to stay out of the basement, Clara,” Richard said.

His voice was terrifyingly calm, devoid of any human emotion.

Clara backed up into the cell, shielding Leo behind her body.

“You are a monster, Richard,” Clara screamed, her voice shaking with rage.

“You locked your own nephew in a cage for six years!”

Richard laughed, a cold, empty sound that echoed off the stone walls.

“He isn’t a nephew,” Richard sneered.

“He is a six-billion-dollar liability.”

Richard slowly cocked the hammer of the gun.

The metallic click sounded like a death sentence in the silent basement.

“My brother William was a weak, pathetic fool,” Richard spat.

“He wanted to give the family fortune away to charity.”

Richard pointed the barrel of the gun directly at Clara’s chest.

“When William’s boat went down, I saw an opportunity to save my company,” Richard explained.

“I pulled the baby from the water before the coast guard arrived.”

“You let the world think he was dead!” Clara cried out.

“The world doesn’t care about a dead baby,” Richard stated coldly.

“They only care about stock prices, and my stock prices tripled when I took over.”

Clara felt Leo’s small hands gripping the back of her scrubs in pure terror.

“Your father woke up, Richard,” Clara lied, needing a distraction.

“He already called his lawyers.”

Richard’s confident smirk instantly vanished.

“You are lying,” Richard barked, stepping closer.

“He is completely brain-dead!”

“He told me everything,” Clara pushed back, standing tall despite her shaking knees.

“If you shoot me down here, the police will tear this mansion apart.”

Richard stopped walking.

Doubt suddenly flashed violently across his arrogant face.

“You are a hospice nurse making twenty dollars an hour,” Richard mocked.

“No one is going to listen to you over a billionaire CEO.”

“They will listen to the DNA test I already sent to the hospital lab,” Clara bluffed wildly.

Richard’s eyes widened in genuine panic.

He lowered the gun just a fraction of an inch.

That was all the opening Clara needed.

She grabbed a heavy, dusty bottle of vintage wine from the rack beside her.

With a scream of pure adrenaline, she hurled the heavy glass bottle straight at Richard’s head.

The bottle smashed directly into Richard’s face, exploding in a shower of red wine and dark glass.

Richard screamed in agony, dropping the heavy revolver to clutch his bleeding face.

“Run, Leo!” Clara shrieked, grabbing the boy’s hand.

They sprinted past Richard, slipping frantically on the wine-soaked concrete.

Clara dragged the boy up the steep wooden stairs as fast as her legs could carry them.

Behind them, Richard was roaring like a wounded animal in the dark.

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