Chapter 8 - THE MAN WITH THE GUN
Victor stood in the doorway.
A pistol rested in his hand.
“Phones on the table.”
Grace stopped breathing.
Adrian’s voice went cold.
“Victor.”
Recognition crossed Victor’s face.
“So it really is you.”
Adrian removed the fake beard.
Victor laughed nervously.
“Hell of a costume.”
“Put the gun down.”
“You still think you’re the boss.”
“I am.”
“Not for long.”
Malcolm slowly raised his hands.
“Victor, think.”
“I have.”
He pointed the gun at the documents.
“Give me the papers.”
Grace stepped in front of the table.
Victor smiled.
“There’s our little hero.”
“Don’t,” Adrian warned.
Victor looked amused.
“Or what?”
Adrian’s expression changed.
The frightened beggar disappeared.
The billionaire who had terrorized boardrooms returned.
“You’ve made the mistake of believing that because I allowed you to treat me as powerless, I was powerless.”
Victor’s smile faded.
Adrian continued.
“Put the gun down.”
For half a second, Victor hesitated.
Grace noticed his eyes shift toward the window.
She grabbed a metal lantern from the table and threw it.
Victor ducked.
Malcolm tackled him.
The gun fired.
Grace screamed.
Glass shattered.
Adrian rushed forward.
Victor kicked Malcolm off.
He aimed at Adrian.
Grace slammed the cottage door into Victor’s arm.
The pistol fell.
Adrian drove Victor against the wall.
Malcolm grabbed the weapon.
“Don’t move!”
Victor breathed hard.
Adrian held him by the collar.
“Who sent you?”
Victor laughed.
“Go to hell.”
Adrian tightened his grip.
“Victoria?”
Victor said nothing.
“Benton?”
Nothing.
Grace picked up the papers.
Then she noticed blood.
“Malcolm.”
He looked down.
The bullet had grazed his upper arm.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re bleeding.”
Victor suddenly smiled.
Adrian saw it.
“What?”
Victor looked at his watch.
“Nothing.”
“What did you do?”
Victor laughed.
“Your sister was right about one thing.”
Adrian slammed him into the wall.
“What?”
“You’re predictable.”
Then an alarm began screaming across the estate.
Not the fire alarm.
The security alarm.
Malcolm looked toward the mansion.
His phone lit up.
“Adrian.”
“What?”
“The board meeting started early.”
“How early?”
“Now.”
Victor smiled wider.
Adrian released him.
Malcolm continued reading.
“They’ve declared you incapacitated.”
Adrian grabbed his coat.
“That doesn’t transfer control without medical confirmation.”
Malcolm looked up.
“They have medical confirmation.”
“What?”
“A physician signed it.”
Adrian stared.
“Who?”
Malcolm swallowed.
“Dr. Samuel Whitmore.”
Grace frowned.
“Who is that?”
Adrian’s face turned to stone.
“My uncle.”
May you like
Victor began laughing.
Because Samuel Whitmore had supposedly been dead for nine years.
