Chapter 8 - The Line in the Sand
Before Marcus could take another step toward the cradle, Maya moved with blinding speed. She brought her right hand out of her cardigan pocket, raising the canister of pepper gel directly to his eye level.
“Take one more step toward that crib, and you won’t see the police when they arrive,” she said, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper.
Marcus hesitated, his jaw clenching. He looked at the canister, then at Maya’s eyes. There was no hesitation in them, no hint of the submissive partner he had manipulated for years. The woman before him was entirely unrecognizable.
“You’re bluffing,” he snarled, though his feet remained planted. “You think you’re smart, Maya? You think the law protects you? I have twenty lawyers on retainer who will drown you in custody litigation until you don’t have a penny left to feed her.”
“Your lawyers resigned three hours ago,” Maya said simply.
Marcus blinked, thrown off balance. “What?”
“Check your phone, Marcus. The Southern District of New York froze your personal liquid assets under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act at 5:00 PM. Your retainers bounced. Your credit cards are declined. Even the rental car you drove up here in will be reported stolen by midnight because the corporate account is dead.”
Marcus’s hand instinctively reached for his coat pocket. He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen in disbelief as a barrage of automated bank alerts and urgent texts from his personal counsel confirmed her words.
A cold silence filled the room, punctuated only by Clara’s soft, rhythmic breathing.
May you like
“You planned this,” Marcus whispered, the realization finally breaking over him like a tidal wave. “Before I even walked out that door... you had already set the trap.”
“No,” Maya replied softly, keeping the canister trained on his face. “You set the trap. You walked into it. I merely locked the door behind you. And now, you’re going to turn around and walk out of my house.”
