Chapter 8 - DIANE’S FINAL GAME
I did not go alone.
Diane had demanded that.
Diane had also spent years underestimating me.
I intended to let her continue.
At 11:17 a.m., I drove toward Plant Seventeen in a black sedan.
At least, that was what Diane believed.
Marcus drove.
I sat beside him.
Behind us, unmarked vehicles maintained distance.
Federal investigators had taken control once Arthur forwarded my grandfather’s evidence.
A tactical team waited outside the property perimeter.
My doctor called twice.
I declined both times.
Then she texted:
If you get shot, I will personally revive you just so I can kill you myself.
I almost smiled.
Arthur stayed at headquarters with Jessica and the evidence.
He had one instruction.
If anything happened to me, release everything.
To prosecutors.
The board.
Employees.
Press.
No secrets.
Not anymore.
Plant Seventeen appeared through gray morning fog.
Brick walls.
Broken windows.
Rusting gates.
My grandfather had once employed four thousand people there.
Now weeds grew through the parking lot.
Marcus stopped the car.
“You stay behind me.”
“Diane wants to see me first.”
“Cassidy.”
“You have twelve tactical officers around this building.”
“And none of them are seven months pregnant.”
Fair point.
My phone rang.
Diane.
“Walk in.”
“I’m here.”
“Alone.”
“I know.”
I looked at Marcus.
He hated this plan.
I entered through the old loading bay.
My shoes echoed on concrete.
One step.
Another.
The building smelled like rust and dust.
Then lights came on.
Diane stood on a metal platform above me.
Brendan was tied to a chair below.
His lip was split.
Jessica’s brother sat ten feet away.
He appeared terrified but alive.
Diane smiled.
“Cassidy.”
I stared up at her.
“You hit Mrs. Alvarez.”
“She attacked me.”
“She’s seventy-one.”
“An aggressive seventy-one.”
Even now, Diane could make herself the victim.
“Where’s the ledger?”
“Drive first.”
“I don’t have it.”
Her smile disappeared.
“What?”
“You didn’t think I’d bring the only copy of evidence proving your fraud, did you?”
“You’re bluffing.”
“Yes.”
I smiled.
“I learned from watching you.”
Diane’s expression tightened.
Brendan looked at me.
His eyes moved almost imperceptibly toward the far wall.
Someone else was here.
I noticed.
So did Marcus, listening through the microphone under my coat.
Diane descended the stairs.
She held a gun.
My blood went cold.
Not because I thought she would shoot me.
Because my daughter moved.
One strong kick.
Stay calm.
I breathed slowly.
Diane pointed the weapon downward.
“You ruined everything.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“You had no idea what sacrifice meant.”
I almost laughed.
“You poured dirty water on a pregnant woman because you wanted a board vote.”
“Don’t reduce this.”
“Why not? You reduced me for years.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You were given an opportunity.”
“To be humiliated?”
“To join a family that could have protected what you inherited.”
“My grandfather protected it perfectly well from you.”
That hit.
Her face twisted.
“You think Edwin Rowan was some saint?”
“No.”
I looked around the abandoned plant.
“He made mistakes.”
“One of them was trusting my husband.”
“Yes.”
“And another was trusting you.”
I stared at her.
Diane smiled.
“You were eighteen when he chose you.”
“He knew me.”
“You were a child.”
“And yet twelve years later, you’re standing in an abandoned factory pointing a gun at that child because you still can’t control her.”
Brendan actually laughed.
Diane turned toward him.
“Shut up.”
“No.”
His voice was weak but steady.
Her face hardened.
“What did you say?”
Brendan looked at his mother.
“I said no.”
Something changed in him.
Maybe too late to save our marriage.
But not too late to save himself.
“You used me.”
Diane rolled her eyes.
“Brendan.”
“You arranged Jessica.”
“I introduced two compatible adults.”
“You lied about Cassidy.”
“Because you needed confidence.”
“You forged my signature.”
Silence.
There.
Confirmation without words.
Brendan stared at her.
“You did.”
Diane’s face became cold.
“You were never good with paperwork.”
He laughed again.
It sounded broken.
“My entire career.”
“We gave you that career.”
“My marriage.”
“You ruined that yourself.”
He flinched.
Again, true.
Diane weaponized truth better than lies.
Brendan looked at me.
“I did.”
I said nothing.
He turned back to her.
“But you loaded the gun.”
Diane raised the weapon.
“That metaphor is becoming dangerously literal.”
“Mom.”
“Stop calling me that like you’re five.”
Then another voice came from the shadows.
“Enough.”
Richard.
He stepped into view.
My stomach dropped.
I had known someone was there.
I hadn’t expected him.
Diane stared at her husband.
“You’re late.”
Richard looked at the gun.
“What are you doing?”
“What you were too cowardly to finish.”
Richard laughed bitterly.
“You kidnapped our son.”
“I corrected a complication.”
Brendan closed his eyes.
Richard looked at me.
“Cassidy, she does have the ledger.”
“Where?”
Diane snapped, “Richard.”
He ignored her.
“In the metal case behind her.”
I saw it.
Small steel case.
Diane pointed the gun at him.
“You always were weak.”
Richard stared at his wife.
“And you always confused cruelty with strength.”
Interesting.
The empire was eating itself.
Diane shouted, “You called Cassidy last night!”
“Yes.”
“You warned her!”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Richard looked at me.
For the first time, he seemed old.
“Because I realized Charles planned to remove me too.”
There it was.
Not morality.
Self-preservation.
Diane laughed.
“Of course.”
Richard continued.
“Charles intended to take control of the shares after Section Twelve.”
“Then we would remove him.”
“No.”
“He needed us.”
“He used us.”
Diane’s smile faded.
Richard looked at me.
“Charles Whitmore is the one who ordered Jessica’s brake line cut.”
My heart stopped.
From my hidden earpiece, I heard Marcus whisper:
We got that.
Diane stared at Richard.
“You’re lying.”
“No.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“He already confessed it to me.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Richard smiled without humor.
“He thought she had the flash drive.”
Jessica had nearly died because Charles believed she possessed evidence.
I thought of the respected statesman sitting in my boardroom.
The man my grandfather trusted.
The man who hugged me at his funeral.
Monster was rarely a useful word.
People were usually more complicated.
But betrayal could be incredibly simple.
Diane’s gun lowered slightly.
Richard stepped closer.
“Give Cassidy the ledger.”
“No.”
“It’s over.”
“No.”
“Federal investigators have the accounts.”
Her eyes widened.
He continued.
“Charles is being questioned.”
Diane looked at me.
“You called them?”
“Yes.”
“You had no right.”
For once, I couldn’t stop myself.
I laughed.
“No right?”
I took a step forward.
“You stole from my company.”
“We built that company too!”
“Employees built it.”
“Your grandfather—”
“Employees.”
My voice echoed through the factory.
“People who worked twelve-hour shifts in this building while you routed money into shell companies.”
Diane stepped backward.
“Don’t lecture me.”
“I’m not.”
I looked at the gun.
“I’m giving you one chance.”
“For what?”
“Put it down.”
She smiled.
“Or?”
I thought about the answer.
Not revenge.
Not destruction.
Consequences.
“Or the next decision you make becomes the one everyone remembers.”
For a second, I thought she might listen.
Then sirens sounded outside.
Diane’s face transformed.
“You brought police.”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
She raised the gun.
Brendan shouted.
Richard moved.
Everything happened at once.
Diane fired.
The sound exploded through the factory.
Richard fell.
I froze.
Brendan screamed.
Then tactical officers flooded the room.
“DROP THE WEAPON!”
Diane turned.
“DROP IT!”
She looked at me.
For one terrible second, the barrel moved in my direction.
My daughter kicked.
And then Diane’s hand opened.
The gun hit the floor.
Officers tackled her.
I ran toward Richard.
Blood spread across his shoulder.
Not chest.
Shoulder.
Marcus reached him first.
“Stay down.”
Brendan was shouting his father’s name.
Jessica’s brother was crying.
Diane lay face-down on the concrete with her hands cuffed behind her.
She looked toward me.
Hatred filled her face.
“You think you won?”
I stood over her.
My hands were shaking.
“No.”
She smiled.
“Then what do you call this?”
I looked around the ruined factory.
At Brendan.
At Richard bleeding.
At armed officers.
At the building my grandfather once filled with workers.
“This is what losing looks like.”
Her smile disappeared.
Paramedics rushed inside.
Marcus opened the steel case.
Inside was the ledger.
Original handwritten payments dating back fourteen years.
Names.
Amounts.
Accounts.
Arthur would have everything.
Then pain tightened across my stomach.
I froze.
Another pain.
Sharper.
Marcus looked at me.
“Cassidy?”
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
Warm liquid suddenly ran down my legs.
My heart stopped.
“No.”
Marcus’s face changed.
“Paramedic!”
Brendan looked at me.
“Cassidy?”
Another contraction hit.
Hard enough to fold me forward.
My water had broken.
Seven weeks early.
May you like
And while officers dragged Diane Morrison away in handcuffs, I realized Protocol 7 might have saved my company.
But it had just sent my daughter into the most dangerous fight of all.
