16. Say It All #2
Lavinia uncrossed her arms. She stepped closer to the foot of the bed, her heavy coat rustling in the quiet room. She looked down at me with arrogant triumph.
“Oh, we planned all of it, sweetie,” Lavinia said.
Her voice carried clear, piercing the ringing in my ears. It was the final, indisputable piece of evidence.
“From Tobias warming my bed, to the men who grabbed you outside the boutique,” Lavinia told me. “You were just too trusting to ever see it.”
I couldn’t pull in a single breath. My fingers lost their desperate hold on the mattress edge, slipping without purchase over the smooth fabric of the sheets.
The room pitched sharply to the side. The heavy wooden furniture and the glowing lamps bled together into a haze of gray shadows.
Just one more second, I prayed to the dimming room as my grip failed.
I surrendered my remaining strength. I pitched sideways off the high mattress.
The silver tray slid from my lap, tipping backward to dump the rest of the broth across the white duvet cover.
My shoulder slammed into the decorative Persian rug, striking the solid floorboards beneath it. The blunt impact rattled my teeth.
I lay paralyzed on the rug, my cheek pressed against the abrasive wool fibers.
I gasped in a useless, ragged rhythm. Only a tiny thread of oxygen hissed past my swollen throat.
Black spots swarmed the edges of my vision, shrinking the world down to a tiny, pinpoint tunnel.
Footsteps squeaked against the polished hardwood.
Tobias rounded the footboard, stepping right into my fading line of sight. He stared down at me from a towering height. His heavy wool coat hung in clean lines over his shoulders.
He made no move to reach for his cell phone. He offered no frantic cries for help. He just stood there and watched me suffocate.
His lips curled into a cruel, triumphant smile.
“Look at her squirm,” Tobias said. He adjusted his cuffs, his voice dripping with relaxed satisfaction. “Pathetic to the very end.”
He said it loud enough for the hidden microphones to catch every word. The confession was recorded. The trap had worked. The room went completely black, blotting out the sight of his expensive leather shoes. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness take over.
Then, the closet door exploded outward.
The solid wood crashed against the bedroom wall with a deafening crack. The violent noise shattered the suffocating quiet of the room. Bastien charged across the threshold. He moved with lethal, unhesitating speed, a blur of motion surging past the foot of the bed.
He cleared the space in two strides. He slammed his shoulder straight into Tobias’s chest. The impact lifted my husband off his feet.
Bastien drove him backward across the rug, tackling him into the heavy oak dresser.
The massive piece of furniture shuddered, wooden panels cracking under the brutal impact.
“Do not move!” Bastien roared, pinning Tobias against the crushed timber. “Do not move a single muscle!”
Lavinia shrieked in shock. She stumbled backward, her designer heels catching on the fringe of the rug.
“What are you doing?!” she screamed. “Get off him!”
Dr. Beaumont rushed out of the closet a moment later. He dropped to his knees on the rug beside my limp body. The brass zippers of his medical bag jingled against the floor. He didn’t bother checking a pulse, reaching instead into the leather interior to rip a prepared syringe from his kit.
He snapped the cap off the needle with his thumb. He jammed the needle straight through the fabric of my maternity pants. A sudden, burning bite pierced my leg.
“Hold her steady!” Dr. Beaumont shouted over the chaos. “Epinephrine is in! Watch her airway!”
The shot kicked in, opening my throat. A rush of clean oxygen flooded my chest. I coughed, rolling onto my side.
The gray haze clouding my periphery lifted. The harsh overhead lighting of the bedroom became sharp and focused again.
The heavy mahogany door leading to the main hallway burst open.
Detective Loxley charged into the bedroom.
His rumpled trench coat flared around his knees.
Two uniformed police officers rushed in directly behind him, their hands already hovering over their utility belts.
They fanned out across the room, stepping past the tipped silver tray on the bed.
“Tobias Stanton, Lavinia Vandeveer,” Loxley shouted, his voice drowning out my ragged coughing. “You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit kidnapping and attempted murder. We have the confession on tape.”
Bastien didn’t wait for the officers to cross the floor.
He shifted his weight off the crushed timber of the dresser and grabbed the lapels of Tobias’s tailored coat.
He hauled my husband upward, lifting him bodily onto his toes.
Bastien shoved him forward, tossing him directly into the waiting hands of the uniforms.
The first officer grabbed Tobias by the bicep, spinning him around. Tobias stumbled, his polished shoes scuffing the floorboards. The officer wrenched his arms behind his back.
“No! Wait…” Tobias stammered.
The cold metal of the handcuffs scraped against his wrists. The steel teeth locked shut with a sharp click.
“What tape?” Tobias yelled, twisting his torso against the officer’s grip. His carefully curated veneer of charm disintegrated, leaving behind a pale, sweating coward. “I didn’t say anything. You misheard!”
He was lying to a hot microphone. The raw, pathetic desperation in his voice washed over me.
For months, he had paraded through this house acting like a mastermind, oblivious to the trap closing around his ankles.
Now, stripped of his leverage and facing federal prison, he was just a terrified man in a ruined suit.
Across the room, the second officer grabbed Lavinia. My mother fought the restraint, her heels scraping harshly against the floorboards as the officer forced her hands behind her back.
“You’re making a mistake,” Lavinia screamed. Her pristine platinum hair fell across her face in a messy tangle. She thrashed against the metal cuffs. “I love my daughter! Let me go!”
You love my trust fund, I thought, letting my head rest against the rug.
Bastien turned his back on the struggling prisoners. He dropped to his knees on the rug beside Dr. Beaumont. He ignored the medical kit, reaching out to slide his large, calloused hands under my arms. He pulled me upward, hauling me off the floor.
He shifted his weight, sitting back on his heels, and drew me directly against his chest. I relaxed. I let my head fall back against his collar, leaning fully into the solid warmth of his body.
“Get them out of my sight,” Bastien growled, staring over the top of my head at the officers. “Right now.”
The uniforms yanked Tobias and Lavinia toward the hallway door. Tobias dug his heels into the rug, craning his neck over his shoulder to look at me. His eyes were wide and frantic.
“Cecilia, tell them!” Tobias pleaded.
I rested my forearms over Bastien’s sleeve. I looked at the man who had sold me to thugs in a damp warehouse. I did not raise my voice.
“Goodbye, Tobias,” I said. My throat was raw, turning the words into a hoarse, scraping rasp. “I’ll make sure to tell Petra who you really were.”
Tobias opened his mouth to argue, but the officer shoved him through the doorway. Lavinia stumbled into the hall right behind him, her shrieks echoing down the staircase. The mahogany door swung shut, clicking into the jamb and sealing the noise outside.
The quiet of the master bedroom returned. I closed my eyes, breathing in the faint scent of sandalwood on Bastien’s collar. He pressed his lips to my temple, and I let my exhausted body sink into his hold.