Chapter 6 - The Trap is Set
s Friday approached, Victor's desperation began to show. His attempts to reach Sophia
through local authorities had failed completely. He had tried to freeze Sophia’s bank
accounts, but I had already filed emergency protective orders that locked his access instead, citing
physical abuse and financial exploitation of a pregnant spouse. His legal team was scrambling, unable
to understand how a 'retired old woman' was blocking every move they made with such flawless,
high-level precision.
On Thursday afternoon, a sleek black town car pulled up to my front gates. I watched from the
study window as Victor Hale himself stepped out of the vehicle. He was dressed in a tailored charcoal
suit, his hair perfectly coiffed, but his usual smug, charming smile was gone. He looked tense, his jaw
tightly clenched. He pushed the gate intercom button.
I walked down to the kitchen and answered the intercom. "State your business, Victor."
Wrong Porch 5
T
"Diana," Victor’s voice came through the speaker, smooth and dripping with artificial warmth.
"Let’s be reasonable. Sophia is my wife. She’s pregnant with my child. She’s had a hysterical episode
and needs to come home where she can be properly cared for. I know you love her, but you’re getting
in the way of her medical treatment."
"You laid your hands on my daughter, Victor," I said, my voice dead and unyielding. "You bruised
her face, tore her dress, and threatened her life. You will never see her, or her child, ever again."
Victor let out a soft, dry chuckle, his tone suddenly shifting from warm to incredibly dark. "You
think you're safe in that big old house, Diana? You think your little title protects you? I own this city. I
own the people who write the laws, and I own the people who enforce them. If you don't open these
gates and hand over my wife by tomorrow morning, I’m going to burn your entire world to the
ground. You won't have a pension, you won't have a house, and you won't have a daughter. Don't play
hero. You're an old woman. You don't know who you're dealing with."
"Oh, I know exactly who I am dealing with, Victor," I replied calmly. "And I assure you, you are
standing on the wrong porch. Have a pleasant evening." I cut the intercom connection, leaving him
May you like
standing in the gravel road, staring furiously at my security cameras.
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