Chapter 6 - Shattered Glass
I burst into the main lobby just in time to see Brittany stumbling backward into a glass display case holding old company awards. Shards of glass shattered across the floor.
Richard was standing over her, holding the portable hard drive firmly in his hand. But standing near the shattered front glass doors of the building was Vanessa.
She held a small, black revolver in her trembling hand, pointing it straight at my father's chest.
"Give me the drive, Richard," Vanessa snarled, her makeup smeared, her perfect hair ruined by the rain outside. She looked completely unhinged. "Give it to me, or I swear to God I’ll put a bullet through your heart."
Richard stood his ground, though his face was pale. "Vanessa, put the gun down. It’s over. The police are already on their way."
"The police don't know shit!" she screamed. "That drive has offshore account keys! If I don't have those keys, Marcus’s associates will kill me! Do you understand?! They will kill me!"
"You brought this on yourself," I said, walking slowly out of the dark hallway and stepping into Vanessa's line of sight.
Vanessa swung the gun from Richard to me, her finger tightening on the trigger. "You... this is all your fault! You bitter, pathetic little loser! You ruined everything!"
"Vanessa, drop the weapon!" Richard shouted, stepping between the barrel and me once again. "Take the money, take whatever you want, but don't you dare touch my daughter!"
"Your daughter?" Vanessa laughed hysterically. "You called her a mistake six hours ago! You hated her! You loved me!"
"I was a fool!" Richard roared back, his voice echoing in the grand lobby. "I was blind, stupid, and weak! She is my daughter—my real daughter—and I will die before I let a monster like you hurt her!"
Tears of fury streamed down Vanessa’s cheeks. "Then die," she whispered, raising the gun to aim directly at Richard's head.
WEE-WOO-WEE-WOO!
Suddenly, brilliant red and blue lights illuminated the high glass windows of the lobby. Sirens wailed as multiple police cruisers pulled into the parking lot, tires screeching on the wet asphalt.
Flashing spotlights pierced through the glass, blinding Vanessa.
"POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS UP!" a voice boomed over a loudspeaker from outside.
Vanessa panicked. She glanced at the doors, then back at us. In her hesitation, Richard lunged forward, grabbing her wrist and twisting it upward.
BANG!
A gunshot echoed through the lobby, shattering a high ceiling window. Dust and glass rained down.
Richard wrestled Vanessa to the floor, pinning her arms behind her back until heavy-booted police officers burst through the shattered front entrance, weapons drawn.
"GET ON THE GROUND! NOW!" officers yelled.
Within seconds, officers swarmed Vanessa and Brittany, forcing them onto the concrete floor and snapping zip-ties and handcuffs onto their wrists.
I ran to my father, who was sitting on the floor, breathing heavily, holding his arm where a piece of flying glass had cut his sleeve.
"Dad! Are you okay?" I knelt beside him, checking for injuries.
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Richard looked at me, his eyes brimming with real, painful tears. He reached out with a trembling hand and pulled me into a tight, desperate embrace—the first real hug he had given me in over two years.
"I'm sorry, Emily," he sobbed into my shoulder as the police led Vanessa away in handcuffs. "I am so, so sorry..."
