Page 50 of October
Then another:
"Wait for the signal. When we move, we move fast."
From the police chief.
My heart thudded once, hard enough I thought she might hear it.
She started talking the second we pulled away. "I'm honestly so glad we get this time in Portugal. You and me, relaxed, out of the city. It's going to begreat.We both deserve it, don't you think?"
I stared straight ahead, willing my pulse to slow. Say nothing. Breathe. Just a few more minutes. She leaned in slightly. "You're quiet. Is this about your father-in-law yesterday? Honestly, what a drama queen."
I snapped. "Stop."
She blinked. "What?"
"Stop talking about my family. Don't say their names. Don't make jokes. Just—stop."
Her tone shifted. "What's gotten into you?"
I clenched my jaw, forced my voice to stay level. "Nothing."
She gave a short laugh. "Oh god, are you going to be like this the whole trip? Brooding in paradise?"
I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them. One breath. Then another. Almost there.
"No. I'm just... stressed."
"Well," she said, oblivious, "good thing we're getting away. we'll have so much fun. I mean i kept suggesting going there for quite some time? it took your father to convince you."
"Sure."
The car rolled to a stop at the private airstrip. The jet was already waiting. My whole body was vibrating now, nerves and dread and cold fury. We stepped out of the car. I could see my father ahead, checking his watch, already impatient.
Then everything happened at once.
Sirens. Tires screeching. Helicopter blades slicing through the sky. Dozens of officers in plain clothes and uniforms swarming out from nowhere—like they'd risen out of the pavement itself. Guns drawn. Voices yelling.
Laura flinched, stepping toward me on instinct. I moved away without thinking.
The police chief stepped forward, nodding at me. "Thank you, Thomas. We've got it from here."
"Thomas! James! What is going on?" Laura shrieked, heels clacking unevenly against the marble as she rushed toward us, her voice rising with each syllable. "What the hell is this?!"
My father turned slowly, like a beast interrupted mid-feast. His eyes locked onto mine—cold, calculating, murderous. Even now, even in handcuffs, he radiated a terrifying stillness. But I didn't flinch.
"What is this?" he hissed, venom lining every syllable.
I stepped forward. "Can we have a moment with them, please?" I asked the officers.
One of the agents glanced at his partner, then nodded. "Make it quick."
I turned to face him—no more fear, no more shrinking. My voice was steady, sharper than I'd ever let it be with him before. "It's over, Father. You're done." He blinked, stunned, as if the words couldn't possibly be real. I stepped closer, each word deliberate. "Mom and I have been collecting evidence, building a case against you both for weeks. Emails, financial records, voice recordings. Every lie, every manipulation, every transaction you thought you buried—we've got it. And the authorities do too."
His expression twisted with incredulous disgust, like he'd just tasted something foul. "Your mother?" he spat. "Thatuseless woman?"
Before I could reply, a sudden stillness cut through the air. Mom stepped forward from the shadows like judgment incarnate, her heels clicking against the floor in a rhythm that sounded like a countdown. She carried herself like a blade—sharp, precise, and deadly. Her gaze was cool, cutting through the room with the calm fury of a storm just before it breaks.
She stopped a few feet from him, eyes burning with quiet rage. "Useless?" she repeated, her voice low, dangerous.
