Chapter 7 - Crimson Lockdown
The crimson glow of the security lockdown bathed the smartphone screen in an eerie, pulsing light. On the live feed, Clara could be seen darting frantically toward the penthouse's heavy oak front door, tugging desperately at the brass handle. The smart locks held firm, sealing her inside the apartment with all of Trina's most personal belongings.
"Open the door! Let me out of here!" Clara’s muffled voice echoed faintly through the built-in intercom speaker of Trina’s phone.
Ramon stared at the phone screen, his hands twitching nervously at his sides. "Trina, you can't trap her in there! Call the police, fine, but don't do this—she has anxiety, she’ll smash something!"
"Let her smash everything she wants," Trina replied, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Because every single broken vase, every torn cushion, and every dropped heirloom will be added directly to the criminal charges against all of you."
Lisa backed away slowly, her green sleeveless dress swaying against her legs as she realized the sheer magnitude of the legal disaster unfolding around them. "I didn't know about Clara, Trina. I swear to God, I thought I was the only one. He told me I was his soulmate, that he was leaving his toxic marriage for me!"
"Soulmate," Trina repeated the word with absolute disgust. She looked at Lisa, seeing not just a rival, but a deeply manipulated, desperate woman who had willingly blinded herself to the obvious truth. "You were convenient, Lisa. Just like Clara. Just like the bank accounts you both drained to fund his lavish lifestyle."
Attorney Santos stepped forward, holding a secure tablet. "Ms. Rosales, local authorities have received our automated lockdown alert. Patrol units are five minutes away from your building. They will handle the intruder."
"Good," Trina said, never breaking eye contact with Ramon. "Make sure they search her bags thoroughly before they cuff her. I want every single stolen item cataloged on record."
Ramon’s knees seemed to buckle slightly. He looked around the empty street as if searching for an escape route, but the black sedan blocked the road, and Attorney Santos stood like an immovable wall. His elaborate house of cards had completely collapsed in less than an hour, triggered by a single black travel suitcase slamming onto a restaurant table.
"Trina... please," Ramon whispered, his voice finally breaking. He took a hesitant step forward, his hands outstretched in a pathetic gesture of pleading. "We can settle this. Drop the audit, drop the charges. I’ll sign over everything. The cars, the shares, the apartment. Just don't ruin my career."
Trina didn't flinch. She stepped closer to him, towering over his broken posture despite her smaller stature. "Your career was built on lies, Ramon. You didn't build it; you stole it. And now, you get to watch it burn down to the ash."
She turned her gaze back to the smartphone screen. Inside the crimson-lit penthouse, Clara had stopped trying the front door. Instead, she had picked up a heavy crystal decanter from the bar cart, turning slowly toward the expansive floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the city skyline.
"She's going to break the window," Lisa gasped, pointing at the screen in horror.
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Before anyone could react, Clara hurled the crystal decanter straight at the reinforced glass balcony door, shattering the inner pane with a deafening crash.
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