Chapter 11 - THE SHOT IN THE HOUSE
The gunshot exploded through the room.
My father fell backward.
His weapon slid across the floor.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
Cassandra stood frozen near the doorway.
The gun shook in her hands.
“I didn’t mean to…”
Officers rushed forward.
They took the weapon.
My mother screamed.
Not for Sophie.
Not for me.
For my father.
“You shot him!”
“He was going to kill Evelyn,” Cassandra whispered.
My mother dropped beside him.
“You destroyed this family!”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“You did.”
Sophie screamed again from outside.
I ran.
Rain blinded me as I followed the path toward the boathouse.
Mercer was twenty feet ahead.
Preston dragged Sophie onto the wooden dock.
A speedboat rocked beside it.
He forced her inside.
“Preston!”
He turned.
The gun remained against Sophie’s ribs.
“Stay back!”
The rain plastered his hair against his forehead.
The perfect groom had disappeared.
His face was twisted with panic and rage.
“You should have signed.”
“You should never have touched her.”
“She is the reason this happened.”
“No.”
“You are.”
He laughed.
“You think anyone will believe you?”
“The files are everywhere.”
“Rachel is alive.”
“Cassandra is talking.”
His expression flickered.
“You are lying.”
“She shot Dad.”
For the first time, Preston looked genuinely shocked.
Sophie used that moment.
She bit his wrist.
Preston shouted.
The gun fired.
The bullet struck the dock.
Mercer lunged.
Preston kicked him backward.
Sophie crawled toward the edge of the boat.
I ran down the dock.
Preston grabbed her dress.
The fabric tore.
She slipped into the lake.
“Sophie!”
I jumped without thinking.
The water was freezing.
Darkness closed over my head.
I opened my eyes beneath the surface.
Sophie’s white dress drifted below me.
I reached for her.
My fingers caught her arm.
I pulled her upward.
We broke the surface together.
She coughed and screamed.
“Mommy!”
“I have you!”
Gunshots echoed above us.
Mercer and Preston struggled on the dock.
The speedboat engine roared.
My mother had reached the boathouse.
She climbed behind the wheel.
“Preston!”
He broke free from Mercer and jumped into the boat.
My mother pulled him aboard.
The boat surged backward.
The wake dragged Sophie and me away from the dock.
Mercer threw a life ring.
I caught it with one hand.
Officers pulled us toward shore.
Sophie clung to my neck.
The speedboat disappeared across the dark lake.
My mother had chosen Preston again.
Even after he nearly drowned her granddaughter.
Mercer helped us onto the dock.
Sophie shivered violently.
Paramedics wrapped blankets around us.
Then an officer shouted from inside the boathouse.
“We found something!”
Behind a locked storage door were boxes filled with passports.
Cash.
Corporate seals.
And photographs of people who had threatened the Whitmore family over the years.
Rachel’s husband.
Former employees.
Auditors.
Journalists.
A red folder lay on top.
My name was written across it.
Inside was a life insurance policy.
It had been taken out six months earlier.
The beneficiary was the Whitmore family trust.
The document listed my death as an anticipated corporate transition event.
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Sophie had not been their only target.
They had planned to kill me after the acquisition closed.
