Chapter 4 - Caught in the Crosshairs
My mind raced. Every survival instinct I had honed while caring for my stroke-ridden father screamed at me, but my body refused to move.
Douglas stepped slowly into the room, the floorboards groaning beneath his expensive shoes. He didn't look angry; he looked terrifyingly calm, a twisted, predatory smile playing on his lips.
"You know, Rebecca, you seemed like such a sweet, harmless middle-aged woman when agency sent your file," Douglas said, taking a slow sip from a glass he had poured himself. "A little desperate, a little bruised from a failed marriage. Perfect material to wipe my brother's drool and keep your mouth shut."
"I... I was just looking for extra linens," I stammered, my voice trembling convincingly as I slipped the flash drive into the deep pocket of my cardigan.
Douglas let out a sharp, dry laugh. "Linens? In a wall safe? Do you take me for an idiot?"
He closed the distance between us with terrifying speed, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist, twisting it hard enough to make me gasp. "Garrett is a vegetable, nurse. He’s a broken relic of a bygone era. My company. My money. My future. If you think you can sneak around my house playing detective, you’ve severely miscalculated who holds the cards here."
"Let go of me," I managed to say, digging my fingernails into his palm until he swore and shoved me backward against the edge of the mahogany desk.
Before Douglas could lunge at me again, a sharp, metallic sound echoed from the doorway.
Click.
We both froze.
Standing in the doorway, gripping the armrests of his wheelchair with white-knuckled intensity, was Garrett. But he wasn't slouched. His back was straight, his shoulders squared, and his legs—though still weak—were planted firmly on the floorboards, supporting a portion of his weight as he pushed himself upright using the heavy frame of his chair.
Douglas spun around, his jaw dropping in sheer, unadulterated horror.
"G-Garrett?" Douglas stammered, color draining entirely from his face as if he were staring down a ghost. "You... you can't stand. The doctors said—"
"The doctors lied, Douglas," Garrett’s voice cut through the room like a jagged blade, cold, resonant, and dripping with absolute authority. "And you paid them a very handsome fee to keep the lie going."
Douglas backed away, his eyes darting between Garrett standing tall and me holding the flash drive. Panic seized him. In a blind rage, he lunged toward the desk, grabbing a heavy brass letter opener and raising it high.
"I ruined him once!" Douglas screamed, his voice cracking with madness. "I can finish it right now!"
He charged toward Garrett.
May you like
My training took over. Without thinking, I grabbed the heavy crystal decanter Douglas had left on the corner of the desk and hurled it with all my might. It struck Douglas squarely in the shoulder, throwing off his balance. He stumbled hard against the mahogany bookshelf, sending a cascade of heavy law books crashing down on top of him.
By the time Douglas groaned and tried to push himself up, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway. The study doors flew open wide, and two private security guards—hired discreetly by Garrett’s corporate defense attorneys three days prior—flooded the room, pinning Douglas face-down to the floor.
