chapter 21

Chapter 21: The Snake at the Table

​The engine of Derrick’s diesel truck roared like a wounded beast as we tore through the barricaded streets. Broken streetlights flashed past in the dark, casting long, ugly shadows over abandoned cars and blood-stained sidewalks.

​I sat in the passenger seat, my hand white-knuckled around the grip of my shotgun. My heart was hammering against my ribs, but my mind was icy cold.

​"Your mom sounds like she’s completely under his spell," Derrick said over the thunder of the engine, his eyes glued to the dark road ahead. He yanked the wheel to avoid a smashed sedan. "If Julian is already inside her house, he controls the room."

​"Julian is a master performer," I spat, my voice laced with venom. "He knows she cares about status, money, and appearances. He’s playing the worried, devoted son-in-law while positioning his armed guards at her doors. He wants my father's industrial factories, Derrick. Those manufacturing plants have reinforced steel walls, heavy machinery, diesel generators, and independent water systems. They are the ultimate survival fortresses."

​"And if he takes the factories, he takes your family's entire legacy," Derrick growled, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel. "And he pins you down."

​Ten minutes later, we pulled onto the quiet, tree-lined street of my parents' gated neighborhood. The suburban neighborhood was eerily silent compared to the chaotic city center, but the peace was an illusion.

​Parked directly in front of my parents' stone mansion were two black, armored SUVs with tinted windows. Four men in tactical vests and sidearms stood guard near the heavy iron driveway gates.

​Julian’s private mercenaries.

​"Keep the engine idling," I told Derrick as we rolled to a stop right behind one of the SUVs. "If things go sideways, be ready to move."

​"I'm coming with you," Derrick said coldly, grabbing his heavy iron bar from behind his seat. "I'm not letting you walk in there alone."

​We stepped out into the chilly night air. The guards near the gate immediately straightened up, their hands hovering over their holstered sidearms. But when they recognized me, they stood down, though their eyes remained sharp and cold.

​"Miss Vance," one of the mercenaries said with a fake, polite nod. "Mr. Sterling is expecting you."

​I didn't answer him. I pushed past the heavy iron gates and marched up the cobblestone walkway toward the front entrance, with Derrick's heavy boots echoing right behind mine.

​I slammed the front door open.

​The grand entryway was lit by bright crystal chandeliers, powered by a hum from my father's private backup generator. Standing near the marble fireplace was Julian Sterling, wearing a sharp dark coat, a cup of hot tea in his hand, looking completely relaxed and unbothered by the apocalyptic world collapsing outside.

​My mother sat on the velvet couch, clutching a tissue, her face pale. My father stood near his study desk, his shoulders slouched with heavy fatigue.

​The moment I stepped into the foyer, Julian turned around. He put on a smooth, warm, heartbreakingly relieved smile.

​"Evelyn," Julian said softly, stepping forward with his hands open as if he wanted to embrace me. "Thank God you're safe. I was so worried about you."

​"Get your hands off me, Julian," I said, stepping back and raising my hand, my voice cutting through the room like a razor blade.

​"Evelyn Vance!" my mother shrieked, instantly jumping off the couch. She rushed over, her silk robe fluttering around her. "How dare you speak to him like that! Julian brought his personal security team to guard our home! He brought medical kits, imported food, and guaranteed our safety!"

​"He's lying to you!" I yelled back, pointing directly at Julian's smug face. "He put a sniper on a roof to trap me in a warehouse! He's trying to starve me out, and he's only here to take Dad's factories!"

​Julian let out a sad, gentle sigh, shaking his head with practiced pity. "Evelyn, please. I know you're stressed. The city is in chaos, and you aren't thinking clearly. I never put a shooter anywhere near you. I've been searching for you for three days straight just to make sure you were alive."

​"Look at her, Julian," my mother scoffed, her eyes shifting away from me and landing straight on Derrick, who stood tall and intimidating behind me, covered in grease and holding a rusted iron bar. Her face twisted into immediate disgust. "She's out of her mind. And who is this... this filthy street mechanic you brought into my house?"

​She took two sharp steps toward Derrick, pointing a manicured finger right at his chest.

​"Listen to me, young man," she snapped, her voice dripping with pure disdain. "I don't know what kind of garbage you've been putting in my daughter's head, but you stay away from her! Evelyn belongs in a high-class family, not rolling around in grease with street thugs! Get out of my house this instant!"

​Derrick flinched as if she had slapped him with an iron rod. The dirty grease on his shirt, his unwashed face, and the rusty pipe in his hand suddenly felt like an unbearable embarrassment. He stared at her disgusted face, then slowly turned his head to glare at me, his eyes burning with intense, raw fury and deep hatred.

​All the old mistrust he felt for me rushed back at once, ten times worse.

​"Derrick, wait—" I began, taking a step toward him.

​"Don't talk to me, Evelyn," Derrick bit out, his voice shaking with pure hatred as he backed away toward the door. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted you. You're just like them—a rich girl playing games while the world burns."

​He glared at Julian, then cast one final, poisonous look at me.

​"I regret ever working with you," Derrick spat bitterly. "Have fun with your wealthy ex."

​He turned on his heel, shoved the front door open, and slammed it shut behind him. Seconds later, the heavy roar of his diesel truck echoed down the driveway as he sped off into the dark, leaving me completely stranded.

​"Good riddance," my mother huffed, smoothing down her silk robe. "Now, Evelyn, take a seat so Julian can explain how we are going to secure your father's factories."

​Julian’s smile widened just a fraction—a subtle, victory-filled curve of his lips.

​I stood alone in the center of the foyer, my jaw tight and my stomach twisted in knots. Julian had completely broken my alliance with Derrick, turned my own mother against me, and trapped me in my family's house—without firing a single bullet.