Chapter 10 - The Confrontation
Grant flinched at the word *thug*, his grip on the gun tightening until his knuckles turned bone-white.
"You did this to me!" he roared, taking two erratic steps toward the bed. "You set me up! You went behind my back with Croft, you stole my company, you turned my mother against me!"
"You did this to yourself the moment you walked into our home holding Vanessa by the waist," I shot back, refusing to drop my gaze. "You thought I was weak. You thought because I didn't scream, because I didn't break dishes, that I was helpless. But while you were busy showing off your mistress, I was cataloging your crimes."
"Sign the rescission!" Grant yelled, tossing a crumpled legal document onto the sheets near my feet. "Sign the paper transferring the Croft patents back to Callahan Logistics, or none of us are leaving this room alive! If I'm going to prison for twenty years, Mara, you're not going to raise my son with another man's money!"
"There is no money left for you, Grant," Julian spoke up, stepping forward from the shadow near the medical monitors.
Grant’s head snapped toward Julian, his eyes widening in pure hatred. "You... you parasitic nobody. I made you!"
"You stole my work," Julian said evenly. "And five minutes ago, while you were cutting the power cables in the basement, federal marshals surrounded the entire perimeter of this hospital. Look out the window."
Grant hesitated, a flicker of doubt crossing his manic expression. He darted a glance toward the corner window. Down in the parking lot below, red and blue strobe lights painted the wet asphalt. Dozens of tactical vehicles were blocking every exit, and the sound of heavy boots echoed up the concrete stairwell.
"Drop the weapon, Grant!" a booming voice echoed from the hallway. Tactical officers in heavy body armor swarmed through the shattered doorway, assault rifles raised. "Drop it now! On your knees!"
Grant backed toward the bed, the gun shaking violently in his hand. He looked down at me, his eyes pleading, pathetic, and terrified.
"Mara... tell them," he choked out, tears of humiliation mixing with the sweat on his face. "Tell them it was a misunderstanding. I'm Owen's father... Mara, please..."
"You lost the right to be Owen's father the day you traded your family for your ego," I said softly, cold as winter stone.
May you like
Grant lowered the weapon. Within a fraction of a second, three officers tackled him to the floor, pinning his limbs, wrenching the gun from his grip, and locking steel cuffs onto his wrists with a sharp, final click. As they dragged him backward out of the room, screaming curses and obscenities down the hall, my body finally gave in to the overwhelming tide of labor.
"Arthur..." I gasped, clutching my stomach as a sharp, undeniable wave of pain crested. "Call Dr. Evans. She’s coming. Now."
