Chapter 6 - The Sister's Revenge (1800+ words)Desperation makes people dangerous.
Four weeks after the wedding, Natalie reached her breaking point. Stripped of her wealth, abandoned by her fiancé, and mocked by her former online followers, she decided that if she couldn't have the Ashford fortune, no one would.
It was a rainy Tuesday night. I was working late at the Ashford Manor archive building, sorting through Grandmother Rose's original journals and historic property blueprints. The rest of the staff had gone home for the evening, leaving only the night security guard at the front gate.
I was so absorbed in my work that I didn't hear the back double doors creak open.
It wasn't until I smelled the sharp, acrid scent of gasoline that I snapped my head up.
Standing at the entrance of the archive hall was Natalie.
She looked wild. Her eyes were sunken, her clothes dirty and rumpled, and in her gloved hands, she held a red five-gallon plastic jerrycan. She had already poured gasoline along the wooden bookshelves bordering the southern wall.
"Natalie!" I stood up instantly, my heart hammering against my ribs. "What are you doing?!"
"I'm burning it down!" Natalie screamed, her voice cracking with pure, unhinged insanity. "I'm burning all of it! Grandmother loved you more! She gave you everything! You took my wedding, you took my money, you took Brandon!"
"You lost Brandon because of your own actions, Natalie!" I said, slowly stepping around my desk, keeping my hands visible as I reached into my coat pocket for my phone. "Put the can down!"
"Don't move!" Natalie pulled a bright yellow kitchen lighter from her pocket and sparked the flame. The yellow light flickered terrifyingly in the dark archive room, reflecting off her wild eyes. "If I can't have Ashford Manor, then you don't get to have your precious history!"
The fumes were thick, making my eyes water. The archives contained priceless family documents, original 19th-century paintings, and Grandmother Rose's personal letters. If a flame touched the gasoline-soaked carpet, the whole wing would go up in seconds.
"Natalie, listen to me," I said, keeping my voice low, steady, and soothing. "You think destroying this building will fix your life? You think it will make Dad love you more or bring Brandon back?"
"Shut up! Shut up!" Natalie sobbed, gasoline sloshing out of the can as she waved her arms frantically. "You ruined everything! You were supposed to be the quiet one! You were supposed to let me have my moment!"
"I let you have twenty-six years of moments!" I shouted back, stepping an inch closer. "I stepped aside every single time you wanted attention! I let you take credit for my school projects! I let you make fun of my clothes! I let you treat me like a servant in our own house! But I will NOT let you burn down Grandmother's legacy!"
"She hated me!" Natalie shrieked, tears streaming down her soot-stained cheeks. "Grandmother hated me!"
"She didn't hate you, Natalie!" I lied softly, taking another small step forward. "She just wanted you to grow up! She left me the trust because she knew I would protect you when Dad spent all the money! I am trying to protect you right now!"
Natalie froze, the flicker of the lighter trembling in her hand. "You... you're lying."
"Look at me," I said, pointing to my chest. "I promised Mother you wouldn't starve. I set up a fund for your living expenses yesterday. Why would I do that if I hated you?"
Natalie looked down at the lighter, her hand shaking violently. For a split second, the rage in her eyes softened into pure, terrified confusion.
That split second was all I needed.
I lunged forward, tackling Natalie around the waist.
We hit the floor hard, crashing onto the carpet. The jerrycan spilled over, splashing cold gasoline across my legs. Natalie screamed, trying to strike the lighter against my face, but I grabbed her wrist with both hands, slamming it against the hardwood floor until the lighter slipped from her fingers and rolled under a heavy oak desk.
"Security!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, pinning Natalie's arms down. "Security!"
The heavy oak doors burst open a second later. Arthur Vance and two private security officers rushed into the room, their flashlights cutting through the darkness.
"Got her! Don't ignite anything!" Arthur yelled, pulling me off Natalie while the two officers pinned my screaming sister to the ground and handcuffed her wrists.
I stumbled back against the wall, chest heaving, drenched in gasoline and gasping for clean air.
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Natalie thrashing against the guards, screaming hysterically as they dragged her toward the exit. "I hate you! I hate you, Marianne! I wish you drowned in that fountain!"
I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes as the sirens of approaching police cars began to wail in the distance.
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