“Holly was an easy kill,” she said, glancing at the dead body before fixing a hateful glare at me. “Do you know that the area between the eyes and nose is the best place to shoot you dead? It’s called the T-box. All it takes is good practice at the shooting range.”
Alistair stared hard at Erin. “Put the gun down.”
Ignoring him, Erin’s crazed eyes widened. “Beyond the T-box is the lower brain. It houses the brain stem that allows our vital organs, including the heart, to function. When I hit it, bam. Instant shutdown.”
She tilted the gun higher. “I gave your friend a quick death. One shot. No pain, no time to scream. If you’re lucky, I’ll give you the same. Want to know how it feels to die?”
“No,” I said. “I am not dying today.”
“SHUT UP!” Erin’s scream blasted through the room, my ears ringing from the force. Her lips curled tight. “The last thing you’ll see is this gun before your brain bursts.”
“Don’t do it,” Alistair pleaded. “Think of Camilla and Oliver. Think of our family.”
“Family?” Erin shrieked. “Oliver left me. He took Camilla. All because of that slut of yours, Scotty.”
The words hit like whiplash. “What? Why?” I gasped.
“You leaked my story to the press.”
“What the fuck?” The disbelief ripped out of me. “You think that was me?”
“Take your phone out of your handbag over there.” Erin pointed the gun toward my HermèsBirkin bag on the table by the window.
I hesitated, taking a careful step.
“Do it. Now,” Erin ordered.
My eyes locked with Alistair’s, begging him without words to trust me. I brushed my fingers over his, a silent promise I’d be okay. He nearly didn’t let go. For him, surrendering control was agony. For me, it was survival.
Finally, his hand slipped away. I crossed to the table, lifted the bag, and pulled out my phone. The screen lit under my thumb as I unlocked it, the glow sharp against the darkness closing in.
“Now, go toLester Harbor Exposed. What’s on the home page?” Erin snapped.
Oh, God. No.
“Read it aloud. I want Scotty to hear what you’ve done.” She flicked the gun like a pointer, daring me to refuse.
The words blurred as I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling. “This week’s exclusive story: Who fathered Erin Everton-Scott’s child? Lester Harbor lawyer Vera Richland reveals the ugly truth about Camilla Scott.” My voice faltered on the last line.
“Erin, this wasn’t me,” I protested.
“Read it.”
“Miss Richland, who is billionaire Alistair Scott’s live-in lover, claims he is the biological father of Erin’s daughter.” My throat closed on those words. “This is preposterous. I swear to God, it wasn’t me. I never spoke to the press.”
“You’re a liar.” Erin sneered. “You aired my filth to the press.” She whipped her gaze to Alistair. “Don’t you see? She’s the thorn between us. She’s manipulating you.”
“Manipulating me?” Alistair scoffed. “The only one pulling the strings here is the woman pointing the gun.” His eyes flicked at Holly’s corpse, then back to Erin. “We can clean this mess, but not if you pull the trigger.”
Her grip trembled, desperation seeping through the rage. “You and I… We still have a chance, don’t we?” Her wild eyes begged him for something that no longer existed.
He pressed his lips and bowed his head. His green eyes sparkled like jewels when he looked up. Except, the sparkle wasn’t joyous. His eyes glistened with tears. “Don’t do it,” he pleaded hoarsely.
“You don’t understand. Vera destroyed everything I had.”
“Who fed you that bullshit?” he demanded.
“Does it matter?”
