Chapter 3 - The Escape and the Betrayal
"Run, Sophie!" my mother screamed, pushing me toward the tiny window that led to the fire escape.
"Get them!" Victoria barked.
The apartment erupted into chaos. Robert, despite his age, lunged at the lead thug, tackling him to the ground. The gun went flying, sliding across the linoleum floor. The second thug grabbed Robert, slamming him against the kitchen counter, while the third went after my mother.
"Sophie, go!" Clara yelled as she grabbed a heavy ceramic teapot and smashed it over the thug’s head. He groaned, stumbling back, but he quickly recovered and grabbed her by her hair.
I didn't run. I couldn't leave them.
My eyes landed on the gun lying near the refrigerator. Without thinking, I scrambled across the floor, my hands shaking, and grabbed the cold metal weapon. I had never held a gun before; it was incredibly heavy.
"Stop!" I screamed, aiming it wildly at the room. "Leave them alone!"
Everyone froze. The thug holding my mother slowly raised his hands, looking at me with a mixture of amusement and caution.
"Careful, kid," he muttered. "You don't know how to use that."
"I don't care!" I sobbed, tears blinding my vision. "Get away from my mom!"
"Sophie, put it down," Victoria said, her voice dropping to a deadly, manipulative purr. "You're just a little girl. You don't want to hurt anyone. Give it to Auntie Victoria."
She took a step toward me.
"You are not my aunt!" I yelled.
Suddenly, the fire alarm in the hallway began to blare. Thick, acrid smoke started pouring in from under the front door. The third thug had already started a fire in the hallway to cover their tracks.
The distraction was all Robert needed. He threw his elbow into his captor's face, breaking his nose. He grabbed my mother's hand and rushed toward me.
"We have to go, now!" Robert shouted, grabbing my arm.
We scrambled out of the window onto the metal fire escape just as the living room was swallowed by a sudden blast of flame. The heat singed my hair. Behind us, we could hear Victoria screaming at her men to pursue us.
The metal stairs of the fire escape squeaked and rattled under our weight. We hurried down, the black smoke billowng from the windows above. But when we reached the second-floor landing, we looked down to find the ladder to the ground was missing—rusted off years ago.
"We have to jump!" Robert said, looking at the trash heap below.
"I'll go first!" Clara said. She climbed over the railing and dropped down into the pile of cardboard boxes, landing with a soft thud. "I'm okay! Drop Sophie!"
Robert picked me up. "Trust me, Sophie."
I nodded, closing my eyes. He dropped me, and my mother caught me, cushioning my fall. But as Robert climbed over the railing, the metal support beam snapped.
"Robert!" Clara screamed.
With a terrible screech of tearing metal, the fire escape partially collapsed. Robert fell, landing heavily on the concrete pavement, missing the trash heap entirely. He let out a agonizing groan, clutching his leg.
"Dad!" Clara cried, rushing to his side.
From the alley entrance, we heard the sound of tires screeching. A black sedan—not Robert’s SUV—swerved into the alley. The doors flew open, and more men in suits stepped out.
"They're everywhere," I whimpered.
Just then, a rusted, battered yellow pickup truck slammed into the back of the black sedan, sending it spinning into a brick wall. The driver of the truck honked the horn furiously. It was Marcus, our neighbor from downstairs, a gruff mechanic who had always been kind to my mother.
"Get in! Get in!" Marcus yelled out the window.
Clara and I dragged Robert, who was crying out in pain, into the flatbed of the truck. I scrambled in beside him, holding his head in my lap, while Clara jumped into the passenger seat. Marcus slammed the truck into reverse, roared out of the alley, and sped onto the main road just as Victoria’s thugs emerged from the burning building.
As we sped away, I looked back at the smoke rising from our apartment. Everything we owned was gone. But looking down at Robert, who was clutching my hand with what little strength he had left, I knew we had found something much bigger.
But our relief was short-lived. Robert’s phone, which was in his pocket, began to ring.
I pulled it out and answered it on speaker.
May you like
"Robert," Victoria’s cold voice echoed through the truck. "I hope you survived the fall. Because if you did, you should check the news. By tomorrow morning, you will be wanted by the FBI for corporate embezzlement and money laundering. I’ve spent the last five years setting up a paper trail with your signature. If you don't hand over your remaining shares and leave the country with your lovely new family, I will make sure you die in a federal prison."
The line went dead.
