Chapter 8 - The Cornered Wolf
Clara slowly turned around.
Victoria stood in the archway, holding a small, silver pearl-handled revolver. Her lips curled into a venomous sneer, her emerald eyes glittering with amusement.
"Did you really think Nathan wouldn't track Marcus’s garage?" Victoria laughed softly, stepping further into the room. "We knew you were alive the moment you stole that antibiotics prescription. Arthur wanted to let the police handle it, but I told him... some vermin need to be exterminated personally."
Clara didn't flinch. She kept her hands loosely at her sides, observing Victoria’s stance. The heiress held the gun with two hands, but her wrists were loose, her stance amateurish.
"Where is my son, Victoria?" Clara asked evenly.
"He’s where you will never touch him," Victoria said, cocking the hammer of the gun. "In three hours, Arthur and I announce the official adoption. The public believes his biological mother died of an overdose during delivery. The press already has the obituary ready."
"You really think Arthur loves you?" Clara asked, stepping an inch to the left, aligning Victoria with the heavy antique floor mirror behind her. "Arthur doesn't love anything he can't control. The moment you fail to produce what he wants, you will be on the floor just like I was."
"Shut up!" Victoria screamed, her poise fracturing into sudden hysteria. "He chose me! My family gave him his empire!"
"Then why are your hands shaking?"
Victoria’s eyes flared with rage. She squeezed the trigger.
*BANG.*
The bullet tore through Clara’s shoulder fabric, grazing the skin. In the same split second, Clara lunged forward, ignoring the fire in her abdominal stitches. She drove her shoulder into Victoria’s chest, slamming the heiress backward against the marble vanity. Glass perfume bottles shattered onto the floor, splashing fragrant alcohol everywhere.
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The gun skidded across the hardwood floor. Victoria shrieked, clawing at Clara’s face, but Clara caught her wrists, twisting them down with savage strength until the heiress fell to her knees.
"You took my child," Clara whispered, her face inches from Victoria's terror-stricken eyes. "Now you tell me the code to the penthouse nursery, or I guarantee you will never walk down that aisle tonight."
