Chapter 77 - The Broken Scion
Noah was screaming now, terrified by the thunderous noise and the choking smoke.
"Give him to me!" Julian wheezed, dragging his bloody leg across the torn carpet. Blood trailed behind him like an oil slick. He reached out a soot-blackened hand toward Noah’s swaddle. "Give me the kid, Clara, and I let you walk out of here alive!"
"You will never touch him again," I snarled.
I scrambled to my feet, my adrenaline drowning out the pain in my bruised ribs. Julian lunged forward, trying to hook my ankle with the stock of his weapon. I kicked hard with my heavy combat boot, catching him square in his broken, burned jaw.
Julian cried out, collapsing onto his stomach, the shotgun sliding away across the slick tile near the destroyed bar.
I didn't run toward the door; the hallway was completely consumed by fire and enemy combatants. I sprinted toward the back utility entrance of the penthouse suite—an access route marked on the floor plans I had glimpsed on the terminal.
"Clara!" Julian roared, pulling a combat knife from his tactical vest and scrambling up with demonic strength. He lunged, tackling me around the waist just as I reached the utility door.
The impact slammed me against the steel frame, knocking the wind from my chest. I twisted my body to ensure Noah didn't hit the metal, taking the full brunt of the collision against my spine.
"You think you're better than me?" Julian hissed in my ear, his breath hot and rancid, the blade flashing inches from my throat. "You were just a charity case I married for a corporate alliance! You're nothing without the Vance name!"
"I am Noah's mother," I gasped.
With all the strength left in my body, I reached down, grabbed a jagged shard of heavy marble debris from the floor, and drove it directly into Julian’s wounded shoulder.
He screamed, his grip loosening as the agony ripped through his torn nerves.
I didn't hesitate. I drove my elbow into his fractured jaw, broke his balance, and shoved him backward into the shattered glass credenza. He crashed through the display, roaring in pain as hundreds of razor-sharp shards pinned him to the floor.
He looked up at me, bleeding from a dozen wounds, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"Clara... please..." he choked out, suddenly reverting back to the pathetic, cowardly boy who had begged me for forgiveness whenever his affairs were uncovered. "We can split the money... we can start over..."
I looked down at the man I had once thought was my protector, the father of my child, the man who had abandoned us thirty-one hours after our son took his first breath.
"You died the day you walked out of that hospital room, Julian," I said coldly.
May you like
I turned the heavy latch of the utility door and stepped through into the maintenance staircase.
***
