Chapter 12 - Eleanor’s Last Stand
Back at the Mitchell manor, Eleanor stood in her son’s old mahogany library, frantically packing emerald jewelry, bearer certificates, and rare gold coins into two leather duffel bags. Her hands were shaking violently. Sheriff Barnes had called twenty minutes earlier with terrifying news: Christian Vance’s body hadn't been found at the hangar, Marcus was on the run after federal agents stormed the airfield, and federal marshals had just secured search warrants for every property in the county bearing the Mitchell name.
""Idiot! Useless, bumbling idiot!"" Eleanor screamed, hurling a crystal decanter against the marble fireplace. She had built this empire with her own ruthless cunning, guiding her late husband's small brokerage into a multi-million-dollar empire. Julian had been a weakling, soft-hearted and foolish, seduced by an orphan with no pedigree. And now, that same orphan was dismantling her life stone by stone.
Her cell phone buzzed on the desk. Eleanor snatched it up. ""Marcus! Tell me you finished it! Tell me she’s dead!""
""Ava isn't dead, Eleanor,"" a quiet, chillingly familiar voice answered.
Eleanor froze, the blood draining from her face until she looked like a marble statue. ""Ava?""
""I’m standing in the federal prosecutor’s office,"" Ava said, her tone devoid of fear, devoid of the trembling compliance Eleanor had beaten into her for months. ""Your accounts are frozen. Sheriff Barnes is currently being arrested on federal conspiracy charges in his own office. And the arrest warrant for you has already been signed by a federal judge.""
Eleanor’s lips curled back in a feral snarl. ""You think a piece of paper can erase me, you little parasite? Everything you have came from my family! Julian was mine! This house is mine!""
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""Julian hated you, Eleanor,"" Ava said calmly, each word hitting like a hammer. ""His last words weren't for you. They were about the monster you are. Look out your front window.""
Eleanor rushed to the sheer curtains, ripping them back. A convoy of black federal utility vehicles and armored tactical vans had just shattered the ornate iron gates, tires tearing up the manicured front lawn as sirens wared in an apocalyptic chorus.
