Chapter 8 - The Ancestral Ledger
"Your legacy is a prison built on bodies," I shouted back, my voice cutting through the mist as I stood firmly on the running board of the wrecked ambulance, holding the heavy steel oxygen tank like a weapon. "I have the micro-cassette recorder, Arthur. I have the vial of poison from Julian’s arm, and Vance has already transmitted the audio files to the state police bureau three counties over. You’re not burying this one."
Arthur stopped walking about twenty feet away. For the first time, that arrogant, untouchable smirk faltered slightly. His eyes flicked from me to Vance, who was stepping out of the front cab with his phone held high, recording every move.
"You think a recording and a local paramedic can dismantle a century of foundation?" Arthur asked, though a dangerous edge had crept into his smooth tone. He motioned to the two men behind him, who began spreading out to flank the ambulance from both sides. "This family doesn't just own the sheriff, Clara. We built the judiciary. Every judge on the circuit owes their seat to a Vance endowment. You’re fighting a tide with a teacup."
"Maybe," Julian’s voice rang out from behind me.
I turned my head slightly to see Julian stepping down from the back of the ambulance, leaning heavily against the door frame, but standing on his own two feet for the first time in twenty-four hours. The fog in his eyes was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, searing fury that mirrored my own.
"And maybe it’s time the dam broke, Uncle," Julian said steadily, stepping down onto the dirt beside me. "I remember now. I remember what happened to my father twenty years ago when he tried to refuse the matriarch’s draught. You didn't die in a cliffside accident, did you, Arthur? You faked your own death to escape the estate, didn't you? Only to come back years later as one of Beatrice's enforcers when you ran out of money."
Arthur’s face went completely bloodless. The polished mask cracked completely, revealing the desperate, trapped animal underneath.
"You know nothing," Arthur hissed, taking a sharp step forward, his hand dropping toward his coat pocket.
"I know everything," Julian replied, pulling a small, leather-bound notebook from the inner pocket of his wedding jacket—a book he must have grabbed from the study desk while I was fighting Beatrice in the bedroom. "Father left a ledger. He knew what Beatrice was doing to keep herself alive for over a century using the blood and compliance of the younger heirs. It’s all in here, Arthur—every name, every fabricated death, every vial of synthetic hormone harvested from local clinics."
The two enforcers stopped dead in their tracks, looking uncertainly between Arthur and the ledger in Julian’s hand.
Arthur’s eyes narrowed into slits of pure venom. "Get the book," he whispered to the men. "Take them both down. Put them in the back of the SUV. We're going back to the estate, and this time, nobody leaves until the bloodline is secured."
The larger of the two enforcers surged forward, lunging straight toward Julian with terrifying speed.
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I didn't hesitate. I swung the heavy steel oxygen tank with all the remaining strength in my body, catching the man squarely across the chest with a bone-shattering thud that dropped him instantly into the mud.
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