Chapter 10
The heavy oak door of the carriage house suddenly burst inward with a deafening crash, splintering against the stone wall. Marcus startled, his aim wavering for a fraction of a second as he whipped around toward the entrance.
Standing in the doorway was Richard Blackwood. He was not the frail, grieving recluse of the past five years. He stood tall, his posture unyielding, holding a heavy vintage hunting rifle with absolute, steady composure. The overhead light glinted off the barrel, casting a fierce, unyielding shadow across his face.
"Drop the weapon, Marcus," Richard commanded, his voice deep, resonant, and carrying the absolute authority of a man who had nothing left to lose.
Marcus cursed under his breath, quickly pivoting the revolver back toward Julian’s head. "Stay back, Richard! One step closer and the boy dies right here. You can't afford another death on your conscience!"
"I already have one death on my conscience, and I carry it every single second of my life," Richard replied, taking a deliberate, unhesitating step into the room. His eyes were locked onto Marcus with cold, terrifying clarity. "I will not let you take another innocent life to cover your crimes. Put the gun down."
"You're bluffing," Marcus hissed, his voice rising in panic as sweat beaded on his forehead. The absolute control he had maintained for years was finally fracturing. "You don't have the stomach for it!"
Julian didn't wait for Marcus to finish his sentence. In a burst of adrenaline, he dropped low, sweeping his leg hard against Marcus’s ankles.
Marcus stumbled violently, his balance shattered. The heavy revolver discharged harmlessly into the wooden ceiling, sending a shower of plaster dust raining down. Before Marcus could recover, Richard closed the remaining distance with surprising speed, bringing the heavy butt of the hunting rifle down sharply across Marcus’s shoulder.
Marcus cried out in pain, collapsing heavily onto the Persian rug as the revolver clattered away across the floorboards. Julian scrambled forward, kicking the weapon out of reach into the shadows beneath the desk.
Within seconds, heavy footsteps echoed outside, and the estate head of security, accompanied by two guards in formal gray uniforms, rushed into the room, subduing Marcus with practiced efficiency.
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Marcus was pinned to the floor, his immaculate suit ruined, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He glared up at Richard with pure venom. "You'll never prove any of this in court, Richard. The legal team is mine. The accounts are tangled in a dozen offshore shells. You'll destroy your own family name trying to prosecute me."
"My family name was destroyed the night you murdered my wife," Richard replied coldly, looking down at the man he had once trusted above all others. "Let the courts decide what is left of you."
