Chapter 5 - Headlights at Nine O’Clock
At 8:45 PM, I turned my rental SUV onto Canyon Vista Way.
The neighborhood was pristine, quiet, and affluent—a tree-lined avenue of custom limestone estates.
My house was glowing like a lantern.
Seven luxury cars—BMW sedans, a Range Rover, and an Audi coupe—were parked along the curb and across the driveway.
Bass thumped through the double-paned front windows. Laughter and the clinking of cocktail glasses drifted out onto the warm night air. Through the sheer living room curtains, I could see twelve guests in cocktail dresses and linen blazers mingling around the marble fireplace.
Julian and Khloe were throwing their grand dinner party, basking in the illusion of wealth built entirely on my mother’s suffering.
I checked my dashboard clock: 8:58 PM.
In my rearview mirror, headlights swept across the pavement.
One marked Travis County Sheriff cruiser.
Then a second tactical transport van.
Then a heavy black Cadillac Escalade carrying Harrison Vance and an emergency locksmith team.
The convoy rolled quietly to a halt directly behind my SUV, blocking the driveway and boxing in every single guest vehicle.
The front door of the mansion opened.
Julian stepped onto the porch, holding his scotch glass, his silk robe catching the evening breeze, an arrogant, dismissive smirk plastered across his face as he looked toward the street to see who was arriving.
May you like
Then he saw the red and blue emergency light bars reflect off his limestone walls.
His smirk died instantly.
