Chapter 7 - The Final Reckoning
Down in the concrete-reinforced interrogation annex beneath the Blackwood estate, Derek Vance sat handcuffed to a metal chair beneath a single swinging incandescent bulb.
The door opened, and Victor Blackwood walked in, flanked by Marcus.
Victor pulled up a folding chair, sat down directly across from Derek, and placed a thick manila folder on the metal table between them.
Derek swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. The reality of where he was—and who he was dealing with—was finally sinking in.
“Mr. Vance,” Victor said calmly, opening the folder. “According to our records, you have a rather extensive history of financial mismanagement at your firm in St. Louis. Embezzlement, tax evasion, fraudulent client accounts. Interesting how a man living so far above his means manages to avoid federal scrutiny for so long.”
Derek’s face paled. “What... what is this?”
“This is your life,” Victor replied, sliding a stack of printed bank statements across the table. “Every illicit transaction you’ve made over the past three years. Copied, verified, and ready to be delivered to the FBI by breakfast tomorrow morning.”
“You can't do that,” Derek stammered, panic flooding his voice. “You’re blackmailing me!”
“I’m cleaning up trash,” Victor corrected smoothly. “Now, here are your choices, Mr. Vance. Choice number one: you sign these divorce papers relinquishing any and all claims to Lily Parker, you sign a permanent restraining order prohibiting you from ever coming within five hundred miles of her, and you catch the next flight back to St. Louis to face whatever federal indictments are waiting for you.”
Derek stared at the papers, his hands trembling. “And choice number two?”
Victor leaned forward, his gray eyes narrowing into two shards of ice.
“Choice number two involves a shovel, an unmarked grave in the woods behind this estate, and a very peaceful night sleep for me.”
Derek didn't hesitate another second.
“Give me the pen,” he whispered, his bravado entirely shattered.
Within five minutes, the documents were signed, witnessed, and notarized by a private attorney brought down to the annex.
“Get him out of my sight,” Victor instructed Marcus. “Put him on a private cargo flight out of state. If he ever sets foot in Illinois again, feed him to the river.”
“Done, Boss,” Marcus said, hauling Derek out of the chair by his collar.
As the heavy steel door slammed shut behind them, Victor stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and walked slowly back up to the upper levels of the mansion.
The nightmare was over.
Upstairs in the nursery, Ethan was sleeping soundly in his crib, his arm healing under proper medical care.
And sitting by the window in the adjoining sitting room, looking out at the quiet Chicago skyline, was Lily.
She looked up as Victor entered the room. The tension that had defined her posture for the past two years was entirely gone. Her shoulders were relaxed, her breathing steady, her eyes clear and bright.
“It’s finished,” Victor said softly, walking over to stand beside her chair. “He signed the divorce papers. He’s gone. Permanently.”
Lily looked up at him, a radiant, tearful smile breaking across her face.
“Thank you, Victor,” she whispered, using his first name for the very first time.
Victor reached out, taking her small hand in his large, warm palm.
“You don't need to thank me, Lily,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “For six months, you cared for my son when no one else would. You protected him from the monsters inside my own house. And the moment I looked at you, I realized something important.”
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“What’s that?” she asked softly.
“You weren't just hiding from a monster,” Victor said, a rare, gentle smile touching the corners of his mouth. “You were waiting to be rescued so you could show me how to heal.”
