Chapter 8 - The Serpent's Strike
CRACK-ZAP!
Fifty thousand volts of high-voltage electrical current erupted into David’s chest.
His entire body convulsed violently. A choked, agonizing scream tore from his throat as the syringe flew from his fingers, shattering against the hardwood floor. He collapsed backward like a felled tree, slamming heavily against the bedside table before crashing onto the floor in a heap of twitching limbs.
"MAGGIE!" David gasped, clutching his chest, his eyes bulging in sheer terror as he writhed on the rug. "MAGGIE! HELP ME!"
The bedroom door burst open.
Maggie Solomon rushed into the room, holding a heavy brass candleholder from the hallway table. "David! What happened—"
She stopped dead in her tracks.
I stood up from the bed, tossing the taser onto the mattress, standing tall, imposing, and completely healthy in my silk gown.
"Hello, Maggie," I said, my voice cold as Arctic ice. "How was Pinecrest Lake?"
Maggie’s face turned gray. She dropped the brass candleholder, her hands trembling as she looked from her twitching son on the floor back to me.
"You... you were supposed to be dying," Maggie whimpered, backing toward the door. "The vitamins... the doctor..."
"Dr. Victor Vance?" I asked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward her. "The Chemist? He’s currently being taken into custody by federal agents at his lab in Upstate New York, Maggie. Just like retired coroner Dr. Harold Vance was arrested three hours ago in Florida."
David groaned on the floor, struggling to pull himself up onto his knees, his face red and covered in sweat. "Adrianna... please... it was a mistake... I was stressed..."
"A mistake?" I laughed—a sharp, cutting sound that echoed off the high ceiling. "Giving my father a fatal dose of digitalis was a mistake, David? Threatening to kidnap my seven-year-old son if he ever spoke a word was a mistake? Planning to poison me over four days so you could buy luxury real estate with my family's money was a mistake?!"
"You have no proof!" David roared, his arrogance flaring back up as he dragged himself up against the bedpost, clutching his chest. "You have nothing! It’s your word against ours! My lawyers will rip you apart!"
I reached into my gown pocket, pulled out my encrypted tablet, and pressed a single button.
The large flat-screen television mounted above the fireplace clicked on.
On the screen, four split video feeds were displaying the exact room we were standing in—showing high-definition, multi-angle coverage of David holding the syringe, confessing to my father's murder, and badmouthing my son, complete with real-time audio waveforms and digital time-stamps.
At the bottom of the screen, a red banner flashed: LIVE BROADCAST TO STATE POLICE SPECIAL INVESTIGATIONS BIEAU.
David stared at the screen, his mouth agape, every ounce of color draining from his face until he looked like a living corpse.
"You... you recorded everything?" Maggie gasped, falling back against the doorframe, clutching her pearls.
"Every word," I said softly. "Every insult. Every confession."
CRASH!
Downstairs, the front glass doors were kicked open with a terrifying impact.
"STATE POLICE! DON'T MOVE!" booming voices echoed up the grand staircase.
Heavy tactical boots thundered up the stairs—eight heavily armed state troopers in full tactical gear, led by Detective Sergeant Marcus Vance, flooded into the master bedroom with assault rifles raised.
"ON THE GROUND! BOTH OF YOU! NOW!" Detective Vance bellowed.
Maggie shrieked, instantly dropping to her knees, weeping frantically. "It wasn't me! It was David! He made me do it! It was all his idea!"
"You pathetic snake," David spat at his mother, his voice cracking with utter desperation as two troopers slammed him face-first onto the carpet, pulling his arms behind his back and snapping heavy steel handcuffs over his wrists.
Detective Vance stepped up to me, pulling off his tactical cap. "Are you alright, Mrs. Solomon?"
"I’m fine, Detective," I said, staring down at David as he was dragged to his feet, his cashmere coat ruined, his face covered in carpet dust and tears.
As the officers dragged him past me toward the door, David turned his head, his eyes burning with a desperate, wild hatred.
"You won't get away with this, Adrianna!" he screamed, his voice echoing down the hallway. "Vance Construction will collapse without me! You’re nothing without your father!"
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I stepped up to him, stopping the officers for a brief second. I leaned in close, looking him dead in the eyes.
"My son spoke his very first words yesterday, David," I whispered, every syllable laced with absolute, terrifying triumph. "And the very first thing he said was that you were a monster. Enjoy the rest of your life in maximum security."
