The Police Arrive

The ground was hard, packed dirt and asphalt, the impact driving the air from Elena’s lungs. She lay there for a second, staring up at the smoke rising from the overturned van, waiting for the pain to register. It didn't. Just a high, keen ringing in her ears.

Boots crunched on gravel.

"Don't move," a voice said. "Hands where I can see them."

Elena rolled onto her side. A security guard stood over her, his flashlight blindingly bright. Behind him, the blue and red lights of the police cruiser strobed against the tree line.

"I'm not armed," Elena gasped, raising her hands. They were shaking violently now, slick with blood from the glass.

The guard didn't lower his weapon. "Stay down."

She looked past him, toward the van. Marcus was still inside. She couldn't see him, couldn't hear him.

"My friend," she said. "He needs help."

"EMS is en route," the guard said, his voice flat. "You worry about yourself."

A black SUV pulled up beside the cruiser. The door opened, and a woman stepped out. She wasn't wearing a uniform. She was wearing a trench coat over an evening gown, diamonds glittering at her throat.

Victoria.

She walked toward them, her heels clicking on the asphalt. She didn't look at the wreck. She didn't look at the police. She looked only at Elena.

"Thank you, officer," Victoria said to the guard. "I'll take it from here."

"Ma'am, this is a crime scene," the guard started to say, but Victoria cut him off with a look that could freeze wine in the bottle.

"This is private property," she said. "And that woman is my daughter-in-law. She's having a breakdown."

She stepped closer to Elena, her perfume—roses and old money—cutting through the smell of gasoline.

"Look at you," Victoria said, her voice filled with a terrible, pitying tenderness. "So messy. So desperate."

"Where are they?" Elena asked, struggling to sit up. "Where are my children?"

"They're safe," Victoria said. "They're with family. Which is more than I can say for you."

She leaned down, her face close to Elena's.

"You really thought you could win?" she whispered. "You thought a few pieces of paper and a recording could stop us?"

"The tape is out," Elena said. "Marcus sent it."

Victoria smiled. "Marcus is currently unconscious in a burning van. And that tape? Arthur's people intercepted the upload before it ever left the local server. We scrubbed it, Elena. It never happened."

Elena stared at her. It was a lie. It had to be. The green checkmark. The confirmation.

"You're lying."

"Am I?" Victoria straightened up. She gestured to the police officer who was now approaching them, handcuffs ready.

"Officer," Victoria said, her voice loud and clear. "My daughter-in-law is clearly unwell. She's been stealing from the estate to fund a drug habit. We found the paraphernalia in her room. And now she's endangered herself and others with this... escapade."

The officer nodded, pulling the cuffs from his belt. "We'll need to take her in, Mrs. St. Clair."

"Of course," Victoria said. "For her own protection."

Elena looked at the officer. He looked young, earnest. He believed the narrative. The grieving widow. The addict daughter-in-law.

She looked back at the van. Smoke was billowing thicker now, black and oily.

"Marcus!" she screamed.

"He's gone, dear," Victoria said. "Just like Sebastian. Just like the money. Just like your future."

The officer reached down, grabbing Elena's wrist. The metal of the handcuffs was cold against her skin.

"Elena St. Clair," he said, reciting the words like a prayer. "You are under arrest."

Victoria watched, her hands clasped in front of her. She looked like a queen surveying a battlefield she had already won.

"Don't worry about the children," she said as the officer hauled Elena to her feet. "I'll make sure they forget you ever existed."

Elena looked at her. She didn't struggle. She didn't scream. She just looked into the eyes of the woman who had tried to erase her husband's brother, who had mutilated a baby, who was now erasing her.

"You missed one thing," Elena whispered.

Victoria raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"The irrigation system," Elena said.

Victoria frowned. "What?"

"The upload," Elena said, a smile touching her bloody lips. "It didn't go to the cloud. It went to the irrigation diagnostics. It went to the manufacturer."

She leaned in, her voice a razor.

"And they keep backups of everything."

The officer pulled her away.

Victoria stood there, frozen. For the first time, the mask slipped. Fear, sharp and sudden, cracked the porcelain.

The officer reached for his handcuffs.