Chapter 5 - The Desperate Play
The fallout from the gala was catastrophic for the Carters. By the next afternoon, headlines across the financial sector screamed of the scandal rocking the Carter Group. The board of directors, terrified of federal prosecution, called an emergency meeting to strip Ryan of his executive powers.
But desperate people are dangerous.
Two days after the gala, Arthur was at his office finalizing the surrender of the corporate documents to the federal prosecutors. I was home alone with Leo. The house was quiet, the afternoon sun casting long, warm shadows across the nursery.
Suddenly, the heavy thud of the front door being kicked open shattered the peace.
I jumped up from the rocking chair, my heart hammering against my ribs. I grabbed Leo, holding him tightly against my shoulder, and stepped out onto the landing.
Ryan was standing in my hallway. His tie was loosened, his hair disheveled, and his eyes were bloodshot and wild. He smelled heavily of alcohol.
"Claire!" he roared, looking up the stairs. "Get down here! Get down here right now!"
"Ryan, leave my house," I said, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to remain strong. "I’ve called the police. They are on their way."
"You think I care about the police?" he screamed, stumbling toward the foot of the stairs. "You ruined us! You and that dead bastard Ethan! He thought he was so smart, hiding the encryption keys. You're going to give them to me. Right now. If I can transfer the remaining assets before the feds seize the main server, I can get out of the country. Give me the laptop, Claire!"
"I don't have it, Ryan. Arthur has it," I lied, backing slowly down the hallway toward my bedroom where I kept a panic button linked to the security system.
Ryan began to storm up the stairs, his heavy boots slamming against the wood. "Don't lie to me! Ethan wouldn't trust an outsider with the master key. It's here. Give it to me, or swear to God, I’ll take this house apart brick by brick, and I’ll start with that kid's room!"
Panic threatened to paralyze me, but the sight of my son’s innocent face gave me a surge of pure, primal adrenaline. I ran into the master bedroom, slammed the heavy oak door, and threw the deadbolt just as Ryan slammed his body against the outside of the door.
The wood groaned under the impact. Leo woke up, letting out a sharp, terrified cry.
"Shh, baby, shh, Mommy’s here," I whispered, tears finally leaking from my eyes. I hit the panic button on the wall, a loud, piercing siren instantly blaring through the house and outside into the neighborhood.
"Open the damn door, Claire!" Ryan screamed over the siren, throwing his shoulder against the wood again and again.
But I didn't just sit there. I grabbed the heavy brass fire poker from the bedroom hearth. I stood in front of the bassinet, holding the heavy metal weapon raised, ready to kill to protect my child.
Within four minutes—minutes that felt like agonizing centuries—the sound of police sirens wailed down the street. Screeching tires echoed outside.
Through the bedroom window, I saw three police cruisers pull onto my lawn. A moment later, loud commands echoed from the hallway as officers rushed into the house. There was a brief, violent scuffle, the sound of Ryan shouting obscenities, and then the comforting, heavy sound of handcuffs clicking into place.
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When the police finally knocked gently on my door, identifying themselves, I opened it. Ryan was dragged down the stairs, his face pressed against the carpet, completely broken.
He was gone. He was finally gone.
