Chapter 6 - The Confession on the Catwalk
A massive projection screen dropped from the second-story conveyor bridge, flickering to life under the halogen lights.
Audio recordings crackled through the industrial speakers mounted to the silos.
“Did the thermite paste set properly?” Sophia’s voice rang out, crisp, clear, and unmistakably venomous.
“The sensors are armed, Miss Reynolds. The mansion’s north wing will be fully engulfed within four minutes of detonation.”
“Good. Make sure the master suite deadbolts stay engaged on the backup generator. She cannot leave that room.”
Vincent went completely rigid.
The blood drained from his face until he looked like a carved marble statue standing in the dirt.
He slowly turned his head to look down at Sophia, who was now clutching her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide with animal panic.
"What is that?" Vincent whispered, his voice dangerously soft.
"Vincent, it’s a fake!" Sophia shrieked, tears spilling over her lashes as she grabbed his coat lapels.
"They used artificial intelligence to fabricate my voice! Dante is trying to tear our family apart! You know he hates you!"
Dante stepped down the metal staircase with slow, rhythmic thuds of his combat boots.
He held up a clear evidence bag containing a blackened circuit board stamped with a serial number.
"The remote detonator transceiver," Dante said, tossing the bag onto the gravel at Vincent’s feet.
"Purchased with the corporate credit card of Reynolds Florals, authorized by Sophia’s personal signature."
Vincent looked down at the charred plastic, then back at the woman he had chosen over his own flesh and blood.
Every single lie, every fake panic attack, every calculated phone call over the past three years flashed through his mind like a blinding strobe light.
"You killed my baby," Vincent said, his voice dropping into a register so dark and terrifying that even Dante’s men tightened their grips on their weapons.
"Vincent, no!" Sophia wept, falling to her knees on the wet gravel.
"She was going to take you away from me! She was going to give you an heir and push me into the background forever! Everything I did, I did so we could be together!"
The confession hung in the freezing air, heavy and fatal.
Vincent closed his eyes, a single tear cutting down through the grime on his cheek, before turning his back on her entirely.
May you like
"Marco," Vincent commanded quietly.
"Hand her over to the federal marshals waiting at the perimeter. Give them every wiretap and every receipt. Let her rot in a federal penitentiary until she forgets her own name."
