Chapter 7 - THE BRASS POKER
The blinding light of Natalie’s flashlight pinned them to the wall.
Marcus stepped in front of Grace, his broad shoulders shielding her and the children cowering behind the steamer trunk. He slipped the hard drive into his pants pocket, his eyes locked on the heavy brass poker in Natalie’s hand.
“It’s over, Natalie,” Marcus said, his voice surprisingly calm, echoing the cold authority he used in boardrooms. “I’ve already triggered the silent alarm. The police are on their way.”
Natalie let out a sharp, breathless laugh. It sounded like glass breaking. “Don’t lie to me, Marcus. I cut the hardlines before I locked the gates. The cell jammers in my car are running. Nobody is coming to save you.”
She took another step into the attic, the heavy poker swinging slightly at her side. “I built that company with you! My father founded it! And you were going to hand it all to that weak, sickly boy, just because he has your blood? I had to take Clara out. She was turning you against me. And today, I would have taken Oliver out, if it wasn't for this meddling trash.”
Natalie snapped the beam of light onto Grace. The hatred in her eyes was toxic.
“You should have stayed in the slums where you belong,” Natalie spat. “Now, you’re going to die here, and I’m going to tell the police that I caught a disgruntled, thieving maid trying to rob the estate, and Marcus died defending his home.”
Natalie lunged.
She swung the brass poker with terrifying speed, aiming straight for Marcus’s head. Marcus ducked, the heavy metal smashing into the cedar wardrobe, shattering the wood into jagged splinters.
Marcus tackled her, driving his shoulder into her waist. They crashed onto the dusty floorboards, the flashlight rolling away, casting wild, spinning shadows across the ceiling.
Natalie was fueled by sheer, psychotic adrenaline. She clawed at Marcus’s face, her manicured nails tearing into his cheek. She kicked upward, her sharp heel catching him in the ribs. Marcus grunted in pain, rolling off her.
Natalie scrambled to her feet, grabbing the brass poker again. She raised it high above her head, aiming for Marcus’s chest as he struggled to get up.
“No!”
Grace didn't think. The maternal instinct that had kept her going through years of poverty and struggle exploded into pure rage. She lunged forward, launching her entire body weight at Natalie.
The two women crashed into a pile of old velvet chairs. The poker flew out of Natalie’s hand, clattering away into the dark.
“Get off me, you filthy animal!” Natalie shrieked, grabbing a handful of Grace’s hair and pulling violently.
Grace ignored the blinding pain. She pinned Natalie’s arm down with her knee and delivered a hard, desperate punch straight across Natalie’s perfectly contoured jaw. Natalie’s head snapped to the side, dazed.
Before Natalie could recover, Marcus was there. He grabbed Natalie by the arms, dragging her up and slamming her against the central wooden pillar of the attic. He yanked a heavy curtain cord from a nearby window and tied her wrists tightly around the beam, securing her in place.
Natalie thrashed violently, screaming obscenities, but the knot held. She was trapped.
Marcus fell back onto his knees, chest heaving, blood dripping from the scratch on his cheek. He looked at Grace, who was kneeling on the floor, gasping for air, her apron torn and her hair a mess.
“Are you okay?” Marcus asked, his voice shaking with adrenaline.
Grace nodded, quickly crawling over to the steamer trunk. “Emma? Oliver?”
The two children peeked out. Emma was crying silently, and Oliver looked completely in shock, but they were unharmed. Grace pulled them both into her arms, kissing the tops of their heads.
Suddenly, the pitch-black window at the far end of the attic was illuminated by a flashing, strobing light.
Red and blue.
Marcus rushed to the window and looked out. Beyond the locked wrought-iron gates, three police cruisers were parked, their light bars tearing through the darkness of the forest. Thomas hadn't just given Marcus the key; the old estate manager must have hit the panic button in his office before Natalie attacked him.
“They’re here,” Marcus breathed.
He turned back to Natalie, who was slumped against the wooden pillar. Her arrogant facade was completely gone, replaced by the pathetic, snarling reality of a woman who had lost everything.
“You’re going to prison for the rest of your life,” Marcus said coldly. “For Clara. And for what you tried to do to my son.”
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Natalie looked up, blood trickling from her lip where Grace had hit her. A dark, hollow smile spread across her face.
“Am I?” she whispered. “You think you’ve figured it all out, Marcus. You think you’re holding all the cards.” She looked directly at Grace, her smile widening into a terrifying grin. “Check the hard drive, Marcus. Before you play the hero, you might want to see what your precious wife was really hiding. You think I’m the only one who lied to you?”
