Chapter 6 - THE FIRE OF TRUTH
Thomas’s smirk faltered slightly, but he quickly recovered. “You’re a fool, boy. I have the evidence. She goes to jail, not me.”
“You think a single photograph is going to save you?” Raymond interjected, stepping up beside his son. “I spent thirty years on the bench, Thomas. I know how digital forensics work. I know how metadata works. If you took that photo five years ago, the geolocator will place it exactly in your private garage, not at the scene of the accident. And if Scarlett’s blood is on the wheel because you pushed her, the angle of the blood spatter will prove it. We will demand a full forensic recreation.”
Thomas’s face twitched. The smugness was beginning to peel away, revealing the panicked animal underneath. “You have no proof I was in the car.”
“Actually, he does,” a new voice spoke up from the doorway.
Everyone turned. It was Howard. He was holding a small, rusted metal box in his hands. He looked nervous, sweating profusely, but he walked into the room with determined steps.
“Howard, what is that?” Abigail asked, confused.
“I’m sorry, Raymond. I’m so sorry, Cedric,” Howard stammered, wiping his brow. “Five years ago, I was working as a night watchman at Vance’s corporate garage downtown. I… I was the one who let him in that night. It was pouring rain. He was driving the silver sedan. I saw him get out of the driver’s side. He was hammered, barely able to walk. He pulled Scarlett out of the passenger side; she was crying and bleeding from her arm. He paid me fifty thousand dollars in cash to look the other way and wipe the security tapes.”
Thomas lunged at Howard, his composure completely snapping. “You miserable rat!”
But Cedric was faster. All the pent-up rage, the years of mourning Hannah, the sickening guilt of what he had done to Scarlett—it all coalesced into a single, explosive movement. Cedric tackled Thomas to the floor, sending them both crashing into the mahogany coffee table. Wood splintered, and glass shattered as the two men grappled on the Persian rug.
“Cedric, stop!” Abigail screamed, rushing forward.
Thomas swung a heavy fist, catching Cedric in the jaw, but Cedric didn’t even flinch. He pinned Thomas down, his forearm pressing brutally against the older man’s throat.
“You killed her!” Cedric roared, spit flying from his lips. “You killed Hannah, and you tortured your own daughter to cover it up! You made me hurt the woman I love!”
“Cedric, that’s enough!” Raymond barked, grabbing his son by the shoulders and pulling him off with a surprising amount of strength. “Don’t kill him. He’s going to rot in a cell for the rest of his life. I’ve already dialed 911.”
Sirens began to wail in the distance, growing louder as they approached Pinewood Ridge. Thomas Vance lay on the floor, gasping for air, his pristine suit ruined, realizing that his reign of terror was finally over.
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Cedric stood up, breathing heavily, wiping a trail of blood from his split lip. He turned to look at Scarlett. She was standing by the window, her hands covering her mouth, crying silently. He took a step toward her, but she flinched, shrinking back against the curtains.
Cedric stopped in his tracks, his heart shattering into a million jagged pieces. He had saved her from her father, but he couldn't erase the terror he had inflicted upon her the night before. The monster was going to prison, but the damage to their marriage was already done.
