Chapter 7 - THE SACRIFICE OF A SISTER
"Put the gun down, Caroline," a voice commanded from behind her.
It was Clara.
She stood in the doorway, her face pale but determined, the guard’s heavy semi-automatic pointed directly at Caroline’s back.
Caroline gasped, her head spinning around to look at the gaunt, ghostly figure of the woman she had helped imprison three years ago.
"Clara?" Caroline whispered, her voice dropping into a tone of pure, childlike disbelief. "You’re... you’re supposed to be in Zurich."
"Your mother lied to you, Caroline," Clara said, her arm steady despite her trembling body. "She lies to everyone. I was never in Zurich. I’ve been living in the dirt beneath this restaurant for three years. Just like Rachel would have."
"No," Caroline shook her head, her eyes darting between us. "No, Mom wouldn't do that. She promised me."
"She promised you a lie," I said, taking another step closer to her. "Give me the gun, Caroline. Let’s end this. For Lily. For your own baby."
For a split second, I saw a flicker of doubt in my sister’s eyes. The manic strength seemed to drain from her shoulders, the silver revolver lowering slightly.
But then, the heavy double doors of the private dining room swung open.
My mother, Eleanor Morgan, entered the room, flanked by Julian Vance and three armed security guards.
"What is the meaning of this delay?" Eleanor demanded, her eyes sweeping the room until they landed on me and Clara.
Her face didn't register fear. It didn't register surprise.
It only registered a cold, professional annoyance.
"You really are a persistent nuisance, Rachel," Eleanor said, stepping into the room. "And you... Clara. I see the basement staff has been incredibly negligent."
"It’s over, Eleanor," Clara said, her voice rising with a sudden, fierce courage. "We have the files. We have the proof of Julian’s murder."
"Do you?" Eleanor said, gesturing to her guards.
Before Clara could react, one of the guards fired.
The sound of the shot was deafening in the small, wood-paneled room.
Clara gasped, her eyes going wide as a small, red flower bloomed on the shoulder of her floral dress. She stumbled backward, the semi-automatic slipping from her hand and clattering across the floor.
"Clara!" I screamed, lunging forward to catch her as she collapsed onto the carpet.
"Take the envelope," Eleanor commanded her guards, her voice as calm as if she were ordering tea. "And dispose of them both. The river is much more reliable than the basement."
"Wait!" Caroline cried, stepping between the guards and my collapsed body. "Mom, you said... you said we were just going to send her away! You said no one else had to die!"
"Caroline, move," Eleanor said, her voice turning cold as dry ice. "You have played your part. Now let the adults finish the work."
"No," Caroline said, her voice shaking but holding her ground. She looked down at me, then at Clara, who was gasping for breath on the floor. "I won't let you do this anymore. I won't let my child grow up in a family of murderers."
She raised the silver revolver, pointing it directly at her own mother.
"Caroline," Eleanor said, her eyes narrowing into slits. "You are being dramatic."
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"I am being a mother," Caroline whispered.
She pulled the trigger.
