Chapter 137 #55: You Know I'm Right
Maya jerks backward from the impact, the bullet tearing through the meat of her shoulder. She staggers two steps with her right hand clamping over the wound and blood already seeping between her fingers. The knife she’d pulled from her boot clatters to the floor. Her eyes are wide and locked on the smoking barrel in David’s hand.
I’m still on my knees beside Vincent’s body, his blood soaking through my jeans. My ears are still ringing from the shot. Everything feels slow and too loud at the same time.
I turn and see David standing in the doorway, holding the gun steady even though his knuckles are white around the grip. He doesn’t look at me first. His eyes stay on Maya.
I push myself up slowly, legs shaky under me. “I thought I told you to stay outside and let me handle this on my own.”
He finally glances my way. Just a quick flick of his gaze enough to make sure I’m still breathing, before returning to Maya.
“I heard you,” he says. His voice is calm, almost conversational. “And if I’d listened to that order, I’d be dealing with two dead bodies instead of one.”
Maya makes a wet, choking sound. She sways but stays on her feet. “David… please. Everything I did… it was for you. For us. I loved you. I still love you. You have to see that. You have to–”
“Stop talking,” he says quietly.
She doesn’t. She takes one stumbling step toward him, stretching her free hand. “We could have had everything, my love. The company. The power. Each other. She–” Her chin jerks toward me. “She hid your child. She married another man. She destroyed you and then came crawling back when it suited her. I was the one who stayed. I was the one who fought for you. Even if not for any other reason, but because we're friends. I nursed you through everything... please.”
David lowers the gun a fraction. Not all the way... just enough that the barrel points at the floor between them. His fingers flex on the grip. I can see the hesitation there – the tiny tremor that only someone who knows him as well as I do would notice.
Maya sees it too. I see a flicker of hope move across her blood-streaked face. “You know I’m right. You know–”
“No one,” David says, voice dropping so low I almost miss the words, “hurts the woman I love.”
With that, he raises the gun again in one smooth motion. I see Maya’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second just before he pulls the trigger.
The second shot is louder than the first, or maybe my ears are just more tuned to it now. Maya’s head snaps back and she collapses without another sound, her body folding in on itself until she lies still on the crimson carpet.
Silence rushes in after the echo.
David stands there for a long moment, gun still raised, breathing hard through his nose. Then he lowers the weapon, flicks the safety on, and tucks it into the waistband at the small of his back.
He crosses the room in four strides and pulls me against him in a fierce hug. His arms are tight, almost too tight, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go even a little. I bury my face in his chest and let myself shake. Just for a second. Just long enough to feel the steady thud of his heart under my cheek.
“You’re okay,” he whispers into my hair. “You’re okay, baby.”
I nod against him. “Vincent…”
“I know.”
We stay like that until the first siren wails in the distance.
~
The next three months pass in a haze of paperwork, press conferences, and police interviews that feel more like interrogations even though I’m no longer the suspect.
The live broadcast Vincent made changes everything. Millions heard Maya confess in real time confess to everything – the murder, framing, blackmail... the works. No amount of planted evidence or friendly moles could undo that. The recording went viral within minutes. Radio stations looped it. News channels played it on split-screen while experts argued about admissibility. By morning the DA had issued a public statement clearing my name in both Elaine’s and Maya’s deaths. Self-defence for Maya. Vincent’s sacrifice sealed it. The mayor even called to offer his condolences. I told his aide to tell the mayor to go to hell.
David and I finish buying back the last of the Reid Global shares two weeks after Vincent's funeral. The boardroom vote was unanimous. He takes the CEO chair again while I stay on as COO. We don’t celebrate with champagne. We celebrate by locking the office door at six o’clock and finally sleeping in our own bed without one of us having to keep watch.
We visit Malcolm’s grave on a Tuesday in late August. The cemetery is quiet, the grass is freshly cut, headstones gleaming under a pale sky.
David and I stand side by side in front of the simple granite marker. Malcolm Reid – Father and Husband. No dates. No epitaph. Just the name and the stone.
I realise I haven’t been here since the day of his funeral, and after today, I most likely won’t ever be returning.
I take a deep breath and force my voice steady. “As much as the money you left for your grandchildren was meant as a massive fuck-you to me, it still saved us this time, so thank you. But... that doesn’t change the fact that you were a terrible person who built an empire on lies and bodies and broken promises. You hurt David. You hurt me. You hurt a lot of people who never deserved it. The world is better without you in it. And I’m glad you’re gone. That’s all I came over here to say.”
David glances down at me. “You okay?”
I look up at him. The lines around his eyes are softer now. The tension in his shoulders gone. He’s still David... still the man who walked through fire for me... but he’s also something new. Settled. Safe.
“I’m perfect,” I tell him and we turn away together.
My phone rings before we reach the car. I turn to see Sel’s name flashing on the screen.
I answer. “Hey–”
“Get over here now,” she says, breathless and excited. “My water just broke and Marcus is freaking out. We’re already in the car. Get to the Hospital. Hurry!”
I look at David. He’s already moving toward the driver’s side.
“On our way,” I tell her.
We slide into the car. Lucy looks up from her colouring book in the back seat.
“Where are we going Mommy?” she asks.
“Aunt Sel's having the baby,” I say. “We’re about to meet your new cousin.”
Her eyes go wide. “A boy or a girl?”
“Boy,” Sel had told us last month during the ultrasound.
David pulls out of the parking lot fast but controlled. I reach back and squeeze Lucy’s knee.
“Ready to be a big cousin?” I ask.
She nods solemnly. “I’m gonna teach him how to colour inside the lines!”
I laugh. The sound feels strange after so long without it. It’s loud and its real. David reaches over and laces his fingers through mine.
We drive toward the hospital with the windows down, summer air rushing in, carrying the smell of cut grass and possibility.
The future feels close enough to touch.
And for the first time in years, I’m not afraid of what comes next.