CHAPTER 9: THE CONFRONTATION AT THE GATE
Clara unlocked the cedar gate with a quiet click. "You're late," she hissed under her breath.
"The police presence on the interstate was heavy," Marcus answered, his voice raspy and bitter. "Is the father suspecting anything?"
"Mark is an idiot lost in his own grief," Clara sneered, reaching for the case. "He trusts me completely. He thinks Lily's blindness is an act of God. By next month, the court will declare him emotionally incapacitated, and the full twelve million will transfer into the foundation account."
"And my thirty percent cut?"
"You'll get every dime wire-transferred the moment the paperwork clears," Clara said smoothly. "Now give me the dosage. She’s starting to complain that her eyes don't hurt as much today."
"This is the final sequence," Marcus said, handing over the metal case. "Two drops a day for three weeks. After that, the optic atrophy is permanent. No surgeon on Earth will be able to reverse it."
*"NOW!"* Mark roared into his microphone, bolting down the attic stairs.
Before Clara could close her fingers around the handle, blinding floodlights erupted from both ends of the alley. High-intensity tactical strobes turned the mist into an incandescent cage.
"POLICE! HANDS IN THE AIR! DROP TO THE GROUND NOW!"
Siren wails shattered the suburban silence. Four unmarked tactical vehicles boxed the gray van in from both sides, armed officers swarming the perimeter with weapons drawn.
May you like
Marcus panicked, throwing the metal case straight into the air and lunging back toward his van. But Clara froze, her pupils dilated in absolute terror as the red targeting lasers painted her chest.
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