Chapter 12 - The Polished Shoes
Clara stared up at the polished black leather shoes standing directly over the elevator hatch, the expensive Italian leather gleaming faintly in the dim emergency lighting. A heavy shadow fell across the opening as a tall figure crouched down, the familiar scent of expensive cologne and fear mixing in the confined air of the shaft.
“Marcus,” Clara whispered, her voice tightening with a mixture of dread and grim determination as she gripped a loose iron bolt on the cab wall.
Marcus peered down through the metal grating, his face bruised and his tuxedo jacket torn at the shoulder, looking nothing like the untouchable corporate executive he pretended to be. He held a heavy industrial wrench in his right hand, the metal jaws gleaming menacingly in the pale light filtering from the hallway below.
“You just don’t know when to quit, do you, Clara? Everything I built, everything we worked for, you had to tear it all down,” Marcus spat, his voice shaking with unstable fury.
“You stole millions from the pension fund, Marcus. You built an empire on stolen lives,” Clara retorted fiercely, ignoring the pain in her glass-cut hands as she braced her foot against the inner wall.
Marcus raised the heavy wrench high above his head, positioning it directly over the metal latch of the ceiling hatch with a terrifying, calculating look in his eyes.
“Then you can burn with the evidence,” Marcus snarled, bringing the heavy tool down hard against the locking mechanism with a deafening crash.
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The latch shattered into a dozen pieces, sending the heavy metal door swinging open and plunging Clara into a direct confrontation with the man she once trusted with her life.
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