My Parents Skipped the Funeral of My Husband and Two Children for My Sister’s Birthday, but Six Months Later, One Headline Made Them Panic When They Discovered What I Had Done. / Chapter 54 / 121

Chapter 54 - The Arithmetic of Blood

"Mommy!" Maya's cry was muffled by the thick duct tape across her mouth, her tiny hands clutching at Leo’s jacket. Leo stood tall, his small frame rigid, his jaw set in a mirror image of his father’s defiance, though tears cut clean tracks through the grime on his cheeks.

"Arthur, don't you dare touch them!" A primal roar tore from my throat, my body straining against the steel restraints with such violence that the plastic ties sliced into my wrists, warm blood trickling down my palms. "They are children! They are your family!"

"They are leverage, Claire. Nothing more, nothing less," Arthur replied calmly, holstering his pistol and drawing a ceramic combat knife from his tactical harness.

He walked slowly toward Ethan, the polished blade catching the glare of the halogen lamps. He stopped behind my husband, resting the flat of the cold steel against Ethan’s jugular.

"Here is the arithmetic," Arthur said, his voice dropping into a rhythmic, terrifying monotone. "We board the transport vessel docked in the canal outside. We sail north to the offshore coordinates. You enter the vault, press your palm to the scanner, and authorize the transfer to my private routing network. If you cooperate, Ethan and the children get dropped off at an unmonitored airstrip in Nova Scotia with two million dollars in clean cash and passports that will keep them safe forever."

"He's lying to you, Claire!" Ethan shouted, ignoring the blade pressing deep enough to draw a bead of scarlet on his neck. "The moment that vault opens, he executes all of us! He can't leave witnesses—that's his entire doctrine!"

Arthur didn't flinch. He simply angled the knife slightly, pressing harder. Ethan didn't utter a sound, merely gritting his teeth as blood welled along the cut.

"If you refuse," Arthur continued smoothly, "I slit Ethan’s throat right here. Then I cut your son's fingers off one by one until you change your mind. And if you still want to play the martyr, I'll take Maya to an offshore buyer in the Mediterranean who pays eight figures for unidentifiable children."

"Arthur!" The scream ripped through my lungs, raw and agonizing. "Stop! STOP!"

Arthur halted the blade. He looked up, his scarred brow arching in silent question.

"I’ll do it," I panted, chest heaving, tears of pure rage burning my eyes. "I’ll open the vault. But you take the tape off my children's mouths right now, and you give them food and water. If you harm a hair on their heads, I will smash my skull against this pillar until my brain is soup, and you can rot in this bunker until the federal task force burns you alive."

Arthur stared at me for three long, agonizing seconds, evaluating the madness and absolute conviction in my eyes.