Chapter 8 - The Breach
The blinding glare of the police cruiser’s flashers cut through the dusty living room, casting strobe-like shadows across the rotting wallpaper. Bernice spun around, her grip tightening on the silver revolver, her eyes darting between me and the doorway.
“Drop the weapon! Police!” shouted the officer leading the entry, his tactical vest and drawn service pistol making it clear this wasn't a local patrol response.
Savannah stepped past the officer, her face pale but her jaw set with an iron resolve. She didn't look like the broken woman cowering on our apartment floor anymore. She looked like a survivor who had finally decided to fight back.
“Put it down, Bernice,” Savannah said, her voice steady and echoing in the tense silence. “The federal wire fraud division and local authorities have already seized your offshore accounts. You don't have anywhere left to run.”
Bernice’s lips curled back in a snarl. “You think a few frozen accounts can stop me? I built this family’s empire from the ground up while your father was busy playing the martyr!”
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“You didn't build anything,” I said, stepping forward from the shadows. “You embezzled, you forged, and you murdered.”
With a sudden, frantic motion, Bernice lunged toward the back window, raising the gun toward Savannah.
