Chapter 8 - THE TAKEOVER
The flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers illuminated the massive oak trees of the estate like a nightmare carnival.
I stood on the front lawn, wrapped in a thick wool blanket a paramedic had thrown over my shoulders. The cold November wind whipped around me, but I didn't feel it. I felt entirely, miraculously weightless.
I watched as the officers led Abigail out first.
She didn't look at me. Her head was bowed, the heavy iron handcuffs a stark contrast to the expensive silk blouse she wore. The arrogance that had defined her entire existence had completely shattered. She was just an old, tired woman who had gambled her soul for money and lost.
Next came my father—my uncle, Robert. He paused as he walked past me, his jaw clenching.
“You’re going to run it into the ground, Sarah,” he spat, a pathetic final attempt to maintain control. “You’re nothing but a glorified secretary. You don't know how to run an empire.”
I looked him dead in the eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
“I ran your empire from a cubicle while you were sleeping, Robert,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “You never built anything. You just stole from people smarter than you. Enjoy federal prison.”
The officer shoved him forward, pushing his head down as he loaded him into the back of the cruiser.
Finally, they brought out Ethan.
He looked destroyed. The golden child, the perfect son, was covered in chemical foam and weeping uncontrollably. When he saw me, he stopped pulling against the officers and fell to his knees in the wet grass.
“Sarah, please!” he sobbed, his voice cracking. “I didn't mean to do it! They made me! Abigail told me to switch the pills! I didn't want to hurt Grandma!”
He was lying, even at the end, trying to push the blame onto the mother who had worshipped him.
I walked over to him, looking down at the brother who had taken everything from me.
“Grandma loved you, Ethan,” I said softly. “She would have given you the world if you had just asked. But you wanted to take it instead. You’re exactly like them.”
I turned my back on him as the officers dragged him away, his pathetic cries fading beneath the wail of the sirens.
Professor Vance and James walked over to me as the last police cruiser pulled out of the driveway.
“It’s over, Sarah,” James said, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “The FBI has already frozen the offshore accounts in Zurich. Every penny Robert and Abigail stole will be returned to the corporate trust by Monday morning.”
I took a deep, shuddering breath, the reality of the night finally washing over me. “What happens now?”
Professor Vance smiled, adjusting his glasses. “Now? Now you have a company to run, Miss Whitmore. And I believe you have a mother waiting for you.”
The next morning, the sun broke over the horizon, casting a brilliant, warm light across the city.
I didn't go to sleep. I couldn't. Instead, I drove back to Pine Ridge Assisted Living as soon as visiting hours began.
When I walked into Room 12, Caroline was sitting by the window, listening to the morning news on a small radio. The anchor was just finishing a breaking news segment about the arrest of the prominent local business owners, Robert and Abigail Whitmore.
I gently turned the radio off.
Caroline reached out instantly. “Sarah?”
“I’m here, Mom,” I said, taking her hands and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“I heard the news,” she whispered, tears slipping past her closed eyelids. “Are you safe? Did they hurt you?”
“I’m safe,” I promised, sitting on the edge of her bed. “They’re gone, Mom. They can never hurt us again. The company is mine. The money they stole is back.”
Caroline let out a long, trembling breath, as if she had been holding it in for thirty years. “Eleanor did it. She finally stopped them.”
I reached into my pocket.
Before I left the estate last night, I had walked back into the foyer and picked up Abigail’s discarded purse. I had dug through the expensive leather until I found what I was looking for.
I took Caroline’s left hand and gently slid a cold, heavy metal band onto her ring finger.
Caroline gasped, her fingers tracing the intricate setting of the stone.
May you like
“The ruby ring,” she wept, bringing her hand to her chest. “I bought this for you when you graduated high school. I begged Abigail to give it to you.”
“I’m giving it back to you, Mom,” I said, resting my head on her shoulder. “Because you’re coming home with me today. You’re never staying in a place like this again.”
