Chapter 7 - The Mastermind's Move
A floorboard creaked behind us.
I didn't turn around fast enough. A heavy object struck the side of my head, and the world dissolved into a blinding flash of white pain. I hit the floor hard, the iron stick slipping from my fingers.
As my vision blurred, I looked up. Standing in the doorway, pale, weak, but entirely conscious, was Christian. Or rather, Michael Vance. He was still wearing his hospital gown under a stolen paramedic jacket, a leaked trail of blood seeping through the bandage on his shoulder. In his hand, he held a heavy glass vase he'd taken from the hallway table.
"You should have stayed at the farm, Arthur," Michael said, his voice completely devoid of the warm, polite tone he had used for eight years. He looked at his brother Marcus with cold disdain. "You're sloppy, Marcus. I told you to get the ledger and leave before anyone noticed."
"You poisoned yourself, you lunatic!" Marcus yelled, clutching his broken wrist. "The cops are all over that hospital!"
"And they would have assumed Clare did it out of jealousy once they found the files I planted," Michael said coldly. He picked up the revolver from the rug with his steady hand. "But now both of you are here. A tragic home invasion. A protective father-in-law, a criminal brother... it still works. The narrative just needs a little adjusting."
May you like
He raised the gun, aiming it directly at my chest as I struggled to sit up, my head swimming.
"Goodbye, Arthur," he said. "You never did like me anyway."
