Chapter 102: Children's Gala, Part II

Chapter 102: Children's Gala, Part II
Third Person

“I think it is time we finally take out the trash,” Matlock said, snapping his fingers once. Four guards came into view and grabbed the angry man by the arms. He was dragged away, kicking and screaming, vowing that this wasn’t over, and cursing Sophie, which earned him a rather harsh blow to the gut.

“I am asserting my majority shares and the executive right to expel a board member based on embezzlement and poor management. I should have done it sooner,” Matlock said to the other two. “We will not be funding the research facility. Sophie’s idea will take place. My lawyers will contact the hospital legal team to discuss details.”

“As you wish. Please enjoy your night, and I thank you for your ongoing generous support.” Seaburg said solemnly before he took his leave.

Sophie huffed, still feeling hatred toward the one who was escorted out. A soft kiss on her cheek brought her back to the present.

Luckily, she didn’t have to wait much longer for the main hall doors to open. They checked their table numbers and headed to the center of the reception. The tables were simple, with dark blue tablecloths and a cute flower arrangement in the center. There was half a wedge salad already sitting on each plate. It didn’t take long to find their seats.

Dinner was pleasant. Matlock knew everyone and proudly introduced Sophie to everyone who came up to talk to him. He was Mister Popular and more than a woman flirted with him; she felt jealous and unsettled. They kept their mouths shut about any of the donations and stuck with lighter topics of conversation. One of the head doctors for the hospital sat next to Sophie.

Once dinner was nearly completed, Matlock found Sophie engaging in a battle of ideas with the good doctor. Sophie smiled at Matlock as she caught him staring at her, returning to her animated dialogue.
President Seaburg went up to the podium. The lights dimmed even more. A short video about the current children in the hospital was displayed, and then the need for a new, top-of-the-line research facility was discussed. After the audience applause died down, the President reiterated the importance of fundraising and pushed for a new research lab. He also emphasized the need to care for the kids, much to Sophie and Matlock’s surprise.

“Now, I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge a very special guest. He has almost single-handedly provided food, shelter, upgraded facilities, and much-needed medical care for the children who are most vulnerable and in need. With his contributions, we are able to obtain valuable information that has saved countless lives. Please welcome to the stage as this year's winner for our most prestigious Humanitarian award to Mr. Matlock Anderson!” Another roaring applause echoed throughout the dinner. Matlock stood up, brought Sophie to her feet, and guided her to the stage with him. He promised she would not leave his side, and he would keep his promise.

Seaburg’s face contorted when he saw Sophie coming up the stage with Matlock, but he quickly schooled his features and put on a big smile. A photographer clicked a few pictures of them shaking hands. The award was no more significant than Sophie’s hand, which was weighted down like a paperweight. It was cast from four children’s hands clasping one another.

As Matlock approached the microphone to begin a heartfelt thank-you speech, he stopped and sniffed the air. He could not see what was going on because the spotlight was on him and the rest of the banquet hall was blacked out.

He turned to look at Sophie, who was also sniffing. Just as he opened his mouth to say thank you, someone screamed, “FIRE!” Chaos ensued. Matlock stepped away from the podium and peered into the darkness. He could see the haze of smoke begin to fill the banquet space. The smell of burning wood mixed with sulfur was nauseating.

“LET US OUT!” someone screamed. There was screaming, crying, and pounding on doors. “It’s locked from the outside,” someone else mentioned.
Matlock turned around, and he dropped his award to the ground. Sophie was being held by none other than Constantine Brutius himself. What got Matlock’s blood boiling was the syringe very close to Sophie’s carotid artery. The red liquid inside is what had Matlock reaching for his gun.

“Ah ah, tsk tsk Matty,” the Uncle chided before Matlock could fish out his gun that was hidden in his waistband. “You don’t want me to hurt her now, do you?”

“Let her go, Brutius,” Matlock said with a tight jaw and clenched fists.

“Oh, I can’t do that. She is the key to my family legacy. We have waited thousands of years to claim what rightfully belongs to us. SHE belongs to us!” Uncle spat.

“Let her go, and I will let you live another day,” Matlock promised.

“Hmm… nope!” the Uncle responded. Then he did something he would regret the rest of his life: He smelled Sophie’s hair, and it sent chills up her spine.

“Fuck you!” Sophie screamed a battle cry. He wouldn't have believed it if Matlock didn’t see it with his eyes. At that same moment, she decided to fight; her body was no longer the scared little girl but a protector.

She wanted to make sure that the weasel didn’t get close to her.

She pulled his hand with a syringe at the same time, pushing her head back towards his face. He was cut off guard, so her head slammed into his face, causing instant blunt-force trauma. She pulled the syringe further from his hand and twisted it at the wrist at an unnatural angle. Uncle Brutius howled in pain, dropping the syringe. She found her courage and channeled all her pain because of him.

Sophie wasn’t done with him yet. She twisted the same arm again and again, causing immense pain to the Uncle. She brought her knee up and smacked him in the stomach as hard as she could until he doubled over; she then stepped on his foot with her heel. Constantine staggered back and into the arms of the security guards waiting for him. Sophie stepped away and allowed Matlock a moment of his time. The guards pushed Constantine back into the makeshift ring, where Matlock delivered nasty blows, almost wrecking his face.

Sophie stepped up to Matlock and reached inside his pants, grabbing the familiar handle of his gun. She brought it up and pointed it at dear old Uncle Constantine Brutius. She turned the safety off and said, “While you enjoy hell, I will enjoy my treasure. Yeah, I know where it is, bitch.” Just as he registered her words, BANG! She held the gun in her hand, and smoke rose from the used barrel. She watched as Constatine fell to the ground. It was an impressive shot right in the middle of his forehead.

Matlock quickly disarmed her. He was both terrified and insanely proud of her at that moment. That damn Constantine Brutius thought he could sideline anyone. He met his final match and was headed down to the depths of hell where he belonged.

He cupped her face. “Are you okay, love?” he searched her eyes for the answer. She nodded before shaking her head. “Oh, poor baby. Come here!” He wrapped his arms around her tightly and gave her a big hug.

He kissed her face gently, trying to distract her. And it worked. They began a heavy makeout session right there on stage with a dead body. Sirens are heard in the distance, breaking them apart. Some of the guards were dispatched to get the damn doors open as quickly as possible. The room was still full of white smoke, making Sophie tired.

“I am so sorry! I knew you wanted to torture him!” Sophie blurted out before the cops busted through. “It’s okay, baby girl. You did great!” he praised her.

“Constantine, what the fuck is taking you so long? It’s bad enough you insisted on getting the bitch; Grab her already, and let’s get out of here! Matlock will be on to us,” a familiar voice came up the stage. Matlock and Sophie stopped their ministrations and looked at the idiot who had just run his mouth into the grave.

Holdman.

The nerve of that man. It all clicked for Matlock—the missing piece for all the trouble over the years and why he had such a hard time finding the links to expel the wimp of a man. The hospital system was one of the largest in the nation. Of course, Brutius was behind it.

Holdman stopped in his tracks when he saw Matlock on stage with Sophie next to him and the great Constantine Brutius on the floor, lifeless, with a bullet in his head. His eyes went wide with fear. He was caught red-handed, and his life flashed before his eyes. He gulped

Matlock pointed the gun he had in his hand straight at Holdman.

“Um, Sir… it’s all a big misunderstanding!” Holdman tried to backtrack, even laughing awkwardly. You could see the fear in his eyes. He was about to say something else, but Matlock pulled the trigger. BANG!
Sophie flinched just a tad, and her grip on Matlock’s shirt tightened. Holdman’s lifeless body fell to the floor with a thump. The guards rushed over and secured both bodies.

The main doors to the banquet hall burst open like fireworks. Police and firefighters scrambled inside as guests tripped over each other to exit. The police chief was among the first to enter.

One look at Matlock on stage, surrounded by his guards, and the chief groaned before barking out, “Stand down, officers! That’s an order! Now!”

The smoke cleared the air, showing the destruction left in its wake. The police chief walked over to the side of the stage to greet Matlock, who still had a firm grip on Sophie’s trembling figure.

“Mr. Anderson. I would say it is a pleasure to see you, but we both know that we merely tolerate each other. I presume those two needing body bags on stage was your doing?” asked the Police Chief, sticking out his hand. Matlock shook it with a firm grasp.

“Chief Wilson. Thank you for coming. Yes, sorry about the mess. They were dangerous to this city. You know what to do. My office will cooperate with you completely. If you will excuse me, I need to get my girl home,” Matlock stated, dragging Sophie with him and not even giving the Chief room for discussion. The guards fell in line, surrounding them better than the Secret Service, and got them safely back in the limo.