Chapter 8 - Protocol B
Marisol pressed her back against the cold stone pillar of the terrace, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Protocol B.
"What... what is Protocol B?" her mother asked, her voice suddenly trembling as she looked at Marcus.
Marcus set his leather briefcase on the grand oak desk in the center of the study, clicking open the dual brass locks with two sharp CLACKS.
"Protocol B means we file the emergency incapacity papers," Marcus explained with terrifying composure. "We submit the forged psychiatric evaluation to the county court, declaring Marisol mentally unstable and incapable of managing her estate due to severe trauma. Under the trust provisions, guardianship—and the thirty million dollars—transfers instantly to you two."
"And what happens to Marisol?" her father asked, his voice hesitant, though he didn't look away from the briefcase.
Marcus pulled a small glass vial and a pre-filled syringe from the foam lining of the briefcase.
"She has an unfortunate medical breakdown in her home tonight," Marcus said smoothly. "A tragic reaction to stress. She spent six years carrying this family... nobody will question it."
Behind the glass terrace, Marisol felt a wave of icy fury replace her fear. They weren't just financial parasites. They were monsters, willing to destroy her life, her sanity, and her breath for a pile of stolen cash.
She reached into her coat pocket, pulling out her smartphone. She tapped the screen, opening a direct live-stream broadcast to Priya’s secure legal server and the state police fraud division.
She stepped out from behind the stone pillar, walked directly to the patio doors, and kicked the double glass doors open with explosive force.
May you like
BANG.
The heavy glass doors slammed back against the interior wall, sending a surge of freezing winter wind and snow swirling into the warm, wood-paneled study.
