Chapter 5 - THE DEVIL AT THE DOORSTEP
“Well, well,” Thomas Vance said smoothly, his eyes sweeping over the room before landing on Scarlett. “I got a very interesting call from a little bird at the district attorney’s office this morning. Something about my daughter suddenly deciding to tell tall tales about an old accident?”
“Get out of my house,” Raymond commanded, stepping forward, his chest puffed out. “You are not welcome here, Thomas.”
“I’m afraid I’m not going anywhere, Judge,” Thomas sneered, casually slipping his hands into his pockets. He walked further into the room, entirely unbothered by the hostility radiating from every corner. He stopped a few feet from Cedric. “You must be the groom. Cedric, isn’t it? I have to say, I was quite offended I didn’t get an invitation to the wedding. But then again, I suppose my daughter didn’t want me ruining her little charade.”
Cedric clenched his fists, stepping in front of Scarlett, blocking her from her father’s line of sight. It was an involuntary, protective instinct that shocked even himself. “Why are you here?” Cedric demanded.
Thomas chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “To save you all a lot of trouble. You see, Scarlett is a deeply troubled girl. She has been since she was a teenager. Prone to hysteria, lies, and drunk driving. If you go to the police with this ridiculous story that I was driving the car, I will be forced to present the physical evidence I’ve kept hidden for years.”
Thomas pulled his phone from his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and held it up. On the screen was a high-resolution photograph of the driver's side of the silver sedan, taken from the inside. There, clear as day, was a bloody handprint on the steering wheel, next to a silver charm bracelet hanging from the ignition keys.
Cedric felt his blood turn to ice. He recognized that bracelet. He had seen Scarlett wearing it in old photographs.
“I took this picture before I cleaned the car,” Thomas said smoothly. “She was driving. She hit the girl, panicked, and got blood on the wheel when she checked the body. I covered it up to protect her. But if she turns on me now, I’ll hand this over to the police, and she’ll spend the next twenty years in a federal penitentiary. So, I suggest we all just drop this little crusade, annul the marriage, and I’ll take my daughter back to Chicago.”
Scarlett let out a wounded cry. “That’s a lie! You forced me to check on her! You made me get out of the car, and when I tried to call 911, you ripped the phone from my hands! That’s how my blood got on the wheel—because you pushed me into the shattered glass of the window!”
Abigail watched the scene unfold with mounting horror. She looked at Thomas Vance's cold, dead eyes, and then at Scarlett’s panicked, sobbing form. There was no doubt in Abigail’s mind who was telling the truth. Thomas Vance was a sociopath, manipulating the evidence to keep his daughter under his thumb.
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Cedric looked at the phone, then turned slowly to look at Scarlett. For the first time since the wedding night, his eyes were clear. The vengeful fog had lifted, replaced by a horrifying realization of what he had done. He had taken a woman who had spent her entire adult life running from a monster, and he had become a monster himself to punish her.
“You’re right, Mr. Vance,” Cedric said, his voice terrifyingly calm. He stepped closer to the older man, closing the distance between them. “We’re not going to drop the crusade. We’re going to burn you to the ground.”
