Chapter 8 - Shards of the Past
The sharp crash of shattering glass echoed through the intercom speaker, sending a fresh wave of panic across the pavement. On the smartphone screen, the heavy reinforced glass of the penthouse balcony door cracked into a web-like pattern, though the outer security laminate held firm against Clara’s frantic assault.
"She's going to hurt herself," Ramon muttered, taking another instinctive step forward as if he could somehow physically intervene through the digital feed.
"Let her try," Trina replied coldly. She tapped the screen, speaking directly into the intercom mic. "Clara, that glass is triple-layered ballistic laminate. You won't break through it, but every swing you take adds another count of property destruction to your arrest record. The police are downstairs."
On the screen, Clara froze mid-swing, the crystal decanter slipping from her grip and shattering against the hardwood floor. She spun around, staring directly into the smart-home camera lens mounted in the corner of the ceiling, her face contorted in pure, unadulterated panic.
Attorney Santos checked his watch, then looked up the street. "Patrol cars are turning the corner now, Ms. Rosales. We should wait for them near the entrance."
Trina nodded once. She slipped her phone into her pocket, the crimson light fading as she locked the device. Without another glance at Ramon or Lisa, she turned and walked toward the sleek black sedan, her cream satin blouse catching the amber glow of the streetlamps.
Lisa stood frozen on the pavement, clutching her arms against the cold night air. The green sleeveless dress that had felt so vibrant and bold just an hour ago now felt like a costume of humiliation. She watched Ramon, her expression shifting from terror to a cold, burning resentment.
"You did this," Lisa whispered, her voice trembling not with fear, but with rage. "All of it. The lies, the forged documents, the other women."
Ramon didn't look at her. His eyes were fixed on the approaching flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers reflecting off the wet asphalt. "Shut up, Lisa. You were happy to take her seat on that plane until she walked through those doors."
"At least I thought it was real!" Lisa shouted, her voice cracking as tears spilled over her lashes. "You told me you loved me while you were texting Clara from our bed!"
The police cars pulled up with a sharp screech of tires, doors flying open as uniformed officers stepped out into the night. Attorney Santos walked over to the lead officer, flashing his firm's legal badge and handing over the injunction documents and the digital evidence log.
Two officers immediately moved past Attorney Santos, heading straight toward Ramon and Lisa. One of them rested his hand on his utility belt, eyeing Ramon with practiced suspicion.
"Mr. Ramon Del Rosario?" the officer asked sternly. "Step away from the lady, please. We have an active report of corporate fraud and unauthorized trespassing linked to this address."
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Ramon opened his mouth to speak, but before a single word could escape his lips, his phone chimed with one final, deafening alert from the banking app.
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