Chapter 4
451words
All food and water entering or leaving was inspected by people I trusted implicitly.
Disaster struck on a stormy night.
The maid burst into my room in panic: "Madam! Miss Bella is hemorrhaging! Her water has broken! It appears to be a difficult labor!"
I threw on a coat: "Where's the doctor? Get her to the family hospital!"
"They're… they're blocked downstairs!" the maid sobbed. "Young Master Brandon has sealed the stairway with security forces, claiming he's purging the family. No one can come up, and we can't go down!"
My eyes hardened as I pulled a Colt from beneath my pillow and flung open the door.
At the hallway's end, two rows of armed thugs in tactical vests with submachine guns formed a human barricade.
Behind this barricade, Brandon lounged in a chair, swirling whiskey in his glass while Tiffany perched on his lap, toying with a dagger.
"Brandon!"
I stood at my end of the hallway, confronting him.
"Bella is in difficult labor—two lives are at stake! That's your child! Order your men to stand down!"
Brandon turned slowly, sipped his drink, and smiled cruelly:
"Catherine, stop shouting. This is my territory. I decide who lives and who dies."
"As for Bella? That slum whore?" He shrugged. "If she's not strong enough to survive, it's God's will. Her bloodline is too weak to bear a Sterling child."
"You're murdering a family member," I said coldly. "By our code, that's punishable by death!"
"Punishable by death?"
Brandon stood, pushing Tiffany aside, and spread his arms arrogantly:
"In this family, I am the only king!"
He approached step by step, gun barrels rising behind him, murderous intent palpable.
"Catherine, don't think you're the boss lady just because you married the old man for a few days. Now that he's dead…"
He jabbed a finger at my face and sneered:
"I am Arthur's only son—the only legitimate heir. I have the right to dispose of everything here, including throwing you parasites into the sea to feed the fish!"
"Guards! Dispose of these women! Make it look like an accident!"
"Yes, sir!"
Over a dozen gun barrels aimed directly at me.
I laughed suddenly, the sound echoing eerily through the silent hallway.
Calmly, I withdrew my phone from my coat pocket.
I moved closer and whispered:
"Brandon, do you really believe that old fox Arthur left nothing behind before he died?"
Brandon's steps faltered. "What do you mean?"
"I mean,"
I unlocked my phone, opened a high-definition photo, and thrust it in his face.
Brandon's gaze fell to the screen.
First came disdain, then confusion, finally absolute horror.
