That evening, my father called me. “The first stage is completed. Do you really want to clear it all? Drake will lose everything.”
I recalled how desperately Drake tried to revive his business, with sweat and sleepless nights. Nothing worked. Investors didn't budge.
I was the supportive partner on the surface, but behind closed doors I pulled strings. I sold my shares worth billions and pumped it into Drake's falling business with a fake name. Investors poured in, desperate for a piece. My father almost died of heartbreak when he heard it; and I was excommunicated from the family.
Now, after Drake had become a multi billionaire, I was pushed off the ship.
If I pulled my investments now, Drake would collapse into abject poverty and public disgrace.
I replied coldly: “Dad, if he has somewhere to fall back to, then nothing was done.”
That night, Drake called me for the first time in months to ask if I had had dinner.
I ignored him and let the call run.
He sighed. “I haven't submitted this letter you signed to the board members. Sandra begged me not to, she just wants peace. So this is another chance.”
Before he was done talking, I ended the call.
Another chance, my foot.
I called the Police. “The investigation has taken too long.”
“We were going to call you tomorrow, ma’am,” the Sheriff said. “There has been a new development. You're invited to the office tomorrow morning. Drake will be there too.”
I smiled. Perfect.
With one call, I booked eighty percent of the city press. Live TVs, thousands of social media accounts ready to stream. His business partners would be glued to their screens, pen in hand. They couldn't risk anything again. The whole world would watch Drake and her slut lover being humiliated.
I would make them pay for the blood of my innocent daughter who never believed the world could be so cruel. My daughter had hoped “Aunty Sandy” would reach out and pull her up. She dreaded water. She was hospitalized one time because water entered her nostrils.
Sandra knew all these.
Yet she watched her fight for her life. Her young arms flapping desperately, her small nostrils getting clogged by the unforgiving depth.
Now they want me to withdraw the case like nothing happened? They would have a taste of why I was called the Undercover Gun by my father's cabal.
The next day, I was at the Police Station. The press were waiting already. So were Drake and Sandra. But instead of being investigated suspects, they were sipping cocktails.
Something felt wrong.
The sheriff welcomed me and I sat across from them. They were hurdled together like inseparable twins. I saw affection in Drake's eyes each time Sandra breathed. Something I hadn't seen in years done for me.
But none of it mattered now.
“You still won't forgive me over a small mistake?” Sandra whispered, wiping at fake tears. “I said I'm sorry.”
“Just let this go, Elena. This unnecessary drama won't bring the girl back,” Drake said, his eyes full of entitlement and impatience.
I turned away.
Drake rubbed her shoulder. “I never knew Elena could be this cruel. I'm glad Ava died; it's better than being raised by her.”
Pain hit my chest like a freight train. My heart twisted with unexplainable agony. You are glad your daughter died.
I adjusted my shades. “Sheriff, she should be in cuffs now. Isn't the evidence clear enough?”
He nodded but began to head towards me with the cuffs. Before my very eyes, I was handcuffed.
The whole world stood still. Even the cameras went silent. Sandra giggled in triumph as Drake held her close.
“What's the meaning of this?” I snapped at the officer.
“Mrs Elena Hallwood, you are under arrest for the malicious murder of Miss Ava Hallwood, the only heiress of Hallwood.”
The sheriff produced the paper I signed last evening. “There it is, you admitted every word of it. I never knew you had such a black heart.”
My eyes bled when I saw the actual content of the paper. It wasn't a sack letter; it was an affidavit claiming I killed my daughter, because I wanted Drake's attention and sought to set Sandra up.
My tongue dried up, my heart shattered and I couldn't believe my eyes.
Drake raised his phone. “I have it all on record. She signed the paper and asked if there was more to sign! This bitch doesn't feel a single remorse that she murdered my precious daughter!”
He began to swipe through his phone, showing the heartfelt pictures he took with little Ava. From the day she was born till her birthday.
As he did this, tears ran down his eyes. “You didn't stop there. You cooked up a story, forged a clip and piled it all on Sandra, who was not even in the country at that time!”
Sandra let out a loud cry and he instinctively took her in his shoulder. He held her like a delicate egg, shooting me a deadly glare.
The cameras went crazy. Murmurs rose. The live streams notifications bubbled.
I sat there, speechless, in chains.
Killing my daughter wasn't enough; they were making a blockbuster out of it.
The sheriff pulled me up. “No lawyer can save you from this mess. Drake is more powerful than the president.”
“Killing her daughter because she wants attention? I've always known she's a lunatic,” someone said from the crowd.
“What do you expect from a woman who is rumored to be an excon, suddenly wanting to be a loving wife and mother? A pig’s always a pig.”
“I'm happy Drake was smart enough to expose her.”
“I can't imagine how Sandra feels. She loved the girl so much.”
I tried to stay calm but the more words I heard, the more I lost every reason to fight. How would the whole city suddenly believe a signed paper over a clear video clip?
How could they agree that I drowned my own daughter?
Drake stood proudly. “I warned her severally to withdraw the case. I was trying to cover up for her. Now I'm sorry this has slipped out of my power.”
I turned to the Sheriff and spoke calmly. “I will call my lawyer now.”
Sandra spat at me. “You still want a lawyer? You will rot in jail, you unremorseful murderer!”
Drake's eyes went cold. “Any lawyer who agrees to defend you will be jailed too. Try me.”
I tried to remain calm, maybe all this cruelty was a nightmare.
This couldn't be the same man who laughed so hard when our daughter said her first word: “Dada.”
Now here he was, passionately defending her murderer.
I stared at them. If only they knew what was coming to them…
