Chapter 6: The Wrench in the Works
Isabella’s suppressed pistol remained perfectly level, the black muzzle fixed directly on Emma’s forehead. Above them, the grand finale of the fireworks display shook the foundations of the Sterling mansion, casting rapid, violent flashes of crimson and gold down the hidden stairwell.
"Put the boy down, Emma," Isabella ordered, her voice a terrifyingly calm purr beneath the booming explosions. "And step back into the dark. It will be so much easier for you if you don't fight."
Emma held Ethan tighter against her chest. The little boy trembled, his face buried in her neck, too weak to cry out. Emma’s mind raced. If she stepped backward, Isabella would lock them both in the vault. They would suffocate, or worse, starve in the dark while Isabella flew first-class to Zurich.
"William will find out," Emma said, her voice shaking, desperate to buy time. "He loves his son."
Isabella laughed—a harsh, grating sound. "William is a fool. A grieving, pathetic fool who signed his entire estate over to my trust just three hours ago. He won't find out anything. He'll just be another tragic billionaire who lost his son to a kidnapping gone wrong, and shortly after... lost his own life to a broken heart."
Emma felt the heavy canvas laundry bag slung over her shoulder slipping. The iron wrench she had taken from the utility closet rested at the bottom.
Now or never.
"I'm sorry," Emma whispered.
"Don't be. You were just the help," Isabella sneered, her finger tightening on the trigger.
Emma didn't step back. Instead, with a fierce cry, she swung her upper body, violently slinging the heavy canvas laundry bag up the stairs.
Isabella flinched, instinctively raising her arms as the bag flew toward her face. The heavy iron wrench inside the canvas connected solidly with Isabella’s wrist. A sickening crunch echoed in the narrow space, followed by Isabella’s shriek of pain. The suppressed pistol clattered down the stone steps, bouncing off Emma’s shin.
Emma didn't hesitate. Carrying Ethan’s dead weight, she surged up the remaining stairs and slammed her shoulder directly into Isabella’s midsection. The glamorous woman in the ivory satin gown tumbled backward into the hallway, gasping for air as she hit the exposed brick wall.
"Marcus! Run!" Emma screamed as she burst into the corridor.
Marcus, the security guard, had been standing paralyzed near the kitchen doors. Seeing the gun, the boy, and the bleeding bride, his training finally kicked in. He lunged forward, grabbing Isabella just as she reached into her garter for a backup weapon.
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"Go, Emma! Get him out of here!" Marcus bellowed, wrestling the frantic, hissing woman to the floor.
Emma hitched Ethan higher onto her hip and ran blindly into the chaotic, glittering maze of the Sterling estate.
