At My Brother’s Wedding, His Mother-in-Law Slapped Me and I Collapsed—But the Mysterious Phone Beside My Face Lit Up With a Terrifying Message: “WHY IS SHE STILL ALIVE?”

Victoria didn't jump. She didn't flinch.

Slowly, deliberately, she turned her head toward me, an amused smile touching the corners of her mouth.

"Claire," she said, as if greeting me at Sunday brunch. "Look at you. You always were remarkably durable. When you were six, you fell out of the maple tree and broke your collarbone, and you didn't shed a single tear until your father picked you up."

"Shut up," I said, leveling the Glock at her heart. "Step away from Grant."

Grant looked at me from the floor, his face a mask of shock and shame. "Claire... she’s... she set the whole thing up..."

"I know what she did, Grant," I said, my voice dead and steady. "And I know you were too cowardly to stop her."

Victoria lowered her silver pistol slightly, taking a step toward me. "Claire, darling. Be practical for once in your life. David is dead. Your father is dead. This idiot brother of yours has run the family firm into thirty million dollars of debt with Russian bookmakers. If I hadn't stepped in, they would have butchered you and Maisie in your sleep to settle his accounts."

"Don't you dare speak my daughter's name," I snarled.

"I did this for Maisie!" Victoria snapped, her mask of composure slipping for a fraction of a second, revealing the feral monster underneath. "I am securing the family dynasty! The ninety million stays in the Bennett name! All you had to do was slip away quietly at that tacky wedding!"

"You tried to poison me in front of my daughter," I said, tears of rage burning behind my eyes. "You ordered Vance to lace my glass. You had Helena slap me so you could frame her family. You used your own children as disposable meat."

Victoria sighed, shaking her head with theatrical disappointment. "A mother has to make difficult choices, Claire. You’ll understand that someday."

She raised her gun.

I squeezed the trigger.

*Click.*

The firing pin struck an empty chamber.

Miller’s gun was out of ammunition. I had fired the last round at Briggs in the loading dock.

Victoria’s smile returned, broad, triumphant, and utterly merciless.