Chapter 2 - One Last Chance
Sabrina descended slowly.
Not like a frightened wife.
Not like someone checking on an injured husband.
Like a person entering a room she controlled.
“One last chance, sweetheart.”
Wyatt looked at her.
His face was hollow from exhaustion.
She set cold rice beside him.
“You sign tonight, and all of this finally ends.”
“I’m not signing.”
She smiled.
“Still brave?”
Wyatt did not answer.
Sabrina stepped closer.
The heel of her shoe came down beside his injured knee.
I shifted behind shelf.
Leah whispered:
“Hold.”
Then Sabrina pressed.
Wyatt screamed.
My vision narrowed.
Every instinct I had said move.
Hit her.
Take my son.
Break the chain.
But the live stream mattered.
The police needed context.
Intent.
Words.
And Wyatt, somehow, understood.
He looked at Sabrina and spat:
“Go to hell.”
She grabbed his jaw.
“Do you know what I hate most about you?”
He breathed through pain.
“No.”
“You spent eight years pretending you were some powerful executive.”
She shoved a pen near his face.
“But the second your father stops protecting you, you’re nothing.”
Wyatt laughed.
Even chained.
“You have no idea how Heartland works.”
Her expression sharpened.
“That’s why you’re going to tell me.”
She slapped a document against his chest.
POWER OF ATTORNEY.
Then:
“You sign. I manage your accounts while you recover.”
“Recover from what?”
She said nothing.
Heavy footsteps came down the stairs.
Irving Palmer appeared carrying a black folder.
He was sixty three and built like a man who had spent his life making sure shirts fit tighter than necessary.
“What now?”
Sabrina stepped aside.
“He still thinks he can say no.”
Irving crouched.
“Wyatt.”
No answer.
He kicked the plate across floor.
Rice scattered.
“Look at me.”
Wyatt lifted his head.
Irving opened folder.
First page.
Durable Power of Attorney.
Second.
Transfer of membership interests in Yates Ridge Holdings.
Third.
Authorization to pledge private real estate.
Fourth.
A resignation from Caroline Yates Workforce Foundation.
Fifth.
A document purporting to assign Heartland shares.
Irving tapped.
“You sign tonight.”
“No.”
“You sign, Sabrina gets authority.”
“No.”
“Then we leave you here.”
Wyatt’s voice came quietly.
“You already broke my knee.”
“You tried to run.”
“I was chained.”
“You kicked me.”
“I should’ve kicked harder.”
Irving slapped him.
My hand curled.
Leah again:
“Team is moving.”
Then Irving said something that changed the entire case.
“After midnight, nobody is coming back down until you cooperate.”
Wyatt stared.
“What happens after midnight?”
Sabrina looked at father.
Irving answered:
“Depends on you.”
Wyatt:
“You’re going to kill me.”
Sabrina’s face twitched.
Not surprise.
Fear of being said aloud.
Irving smiled without humor.
“You sign, maybe you wake in hospital.”
My blood went cold.
There.
Then Wyatt asked:
“And if I don’t?”
Irving reached inside jacket.
He removed a capped syringe.
My body moved before thought.
Wyatt kicked with good leg.
The chain jerked.
Irving stumbled.
Sabrina grabbed Wyatt’s hair.
I came out.
I hit Irving shoulder first and drove him into metal shelving.
Boxes fell.
Sabrina screamed.
“Abraham!”
She lunged toward Wyatt.
I caught her forearm and shoved her away.
Not onto concrete hard.
Just away.
“Back up.”
Irving swung.
His fist caught my shoulder.
Pain exploded.
I turned and shoved him into shelf again.
“Hands where I can see them.”
Sabrina screamed:
“You crazy old bastard!”
Then sirens.
Not distant anymore.
The basement door above crashed open.
“SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT!”
Irving froze.
Sabrina looked toward stairs.
Then toward my phone.
I held it up.
On screen, Detective Leah Grant’s face appeared in live connection.
“Everything,” I said.
Sabrina went pale.
“No.”
Wyatt gasped:
“Dad.”
“I’m here.”
Deputies rushed down.
One pulled me back.
Another ordered Irving to floor.
Sabrina shouted:
“This man broke into my house!”
Leah stepped down behind deputies.
She pointed at Wyatt.
“Ma’am, your husband is chained to a concrete column.”
“He attacked us!”
Leah looked at syringe on floor.
Then papers.
Then Wyatt’s knee.
“We recorded the last seventeen minutes.”
Silence.
Above us, fifteen party guests began shouting.
Not in fear.
Countdown.
Ten.
Nine.
Eight.
A deputy photographed the chain before fire personnel cut it.
Seven.
Paramedics opened equipment.
Six.
Piper appeared at top stairs wearing Caroline’s coat.
Five.
She saw Wyatt.
Her face collapsed.
Four.
Sabrina started crying.
Three.
Wyatt looked at me.
Two.
“Dad.”
“Yes.”
One.
“They have a safe.”
Above us:
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
I leaned close.
“What safe?”
“Behind the boiler panel.”
“What’s inside?”
“The papers I refused to sign.”
May you like
Then Wyatt closed his eyes.
“And a video of what Irving did to my knee.”
