Your Own Parents

I was on a scenic sky-tram with my in-laws when the mountain below erupted into a million-dollar firework display. Against the twilight sky, it spelled out: STELLA, MY HEART IS YOURS FOREVER. I knew instantly. This was for my husband’s childhood flame—a grand gesture to win her back. The blast shook our cable car violently. The support cable groaned, ready to snap. Gripping my phone, I screamed: "Ross, you're insane! Stop! Your parents are in here with me!" A cold chuckle came through, layered with Stella’s coaxing voice. "Why stop? Three years ago, Stella’s parents died under your care—a surgeon who ‘never’ failed. Today, Peyton, you’ll taste that same pain." I heard a security guard in the background before Ross commanded sharply: "Fire three hundred more rounds. Aim for the cable car. Obliterate it." Stella giggled sweetly, "Make those old fools disappear." The car plunged. My in-laws cried out, pale with terror. Seeing red, I roared into the phone: "Ross, these are your own parents!" 1 "Peyton, do you even hear yourself? How pathetic." Ross's voice was a sliver of ice. In the background, Stella tittered. "Oh, Ross, don't you see what she's doing? She's trying to use your parents to control you," she cooed. "Just like she did to force you into marriage." That was the trigger. I heard Ross's breath catch, his anger flaring. He barked an order, and a new volley of fireworks, fifty shells this time, screamed toward us. "You have ten minutes," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "Agree to a divorce, sign away everything you have, and tell my parents it was your choice. Do that, and maybe I'll let you live." He paused, letting the unspoken threat hang in the air. "Otherwise…" The car's glass door, already fractured, swung wildly on its hinges, shrieking with the tortured sound of metal. Before I could respond, my father-in-law, his face a mask of fury, snatched the phone from my hand. "You little bastard! Is this how you treat Peyton when we're not around?" His voice, usually so steady, was sharp with fear and altitude sickness. There was a stunned silence from Ross's end, followed by an explosion of rage. "Who the hell do you think you are, talking to me like that?" "I'm your father!" "I never acknowledged that marriage. You think you can claim a connection to me? You must have a death wish." The barrage intensified. A shell hit the car directly, and the remaining glass shattered. I was thrown halfway out the window, my hands desperately clinging to the frame. Shards of glass dug into my palm, a hot, searing pain that made me break out in a cold sweat. My mother-in-law screamed, her eyes wide with horror. "Peyton, your hand!" For a surgeon, your hands are everything. I managed a grim smile. "I'm fine." She fumbled for her own phone. "I'm calling Mr. Cole. He'll get us out of this." But when she dialed, the call was rerouted. It was Ross who answered. My mother-in-law was hysterical. "You monster! You're trying to kill us! Stop this right now!" Ross just clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Mom, has Peyton been feeding you stories again? Don't listen to her nonsense. We're perfectly fine." He hung up. A second later, my phone rang. It was him, bellowing with rage. "You bitch! You really think you can use my parents as a shield?" he snarled. "Let me spell it out for you. I fired Cole this morning. No one is coming to save you. It's divorce, or it's death. Choose." My mother-in-law gasped, a strangled sound, and collapsed, clutching her chest. She couldn't breathe. Her heart. It was a heart attack. I frantically dug through my bag, my fingers finally closing around her pill bottle. Just as I was about to give her one, a helicopter thundered into view, hovering a hundred yards away. Ross stood in the open doorway, Stella wrapped around him. In his hands, he held a hunting rifle. He calmly loaded a round. Bang. The bullet whizzed past my cheek and struck the pill bottle, shattering it into dust. The impact sent a numbing shock up my arm. There was another metallic click. He was aiming at me. "Ten minutes are up, Peyton. Are you signing, or not?" 2 My mother-in-law gripped my hand, her eyes pleading as she weakly shook her head. My father-in-law, his face ashen, tried to lean out to reason with his son. A warning shot from Ross tore through his shoulder. "I'm counting down from ten!" Ross yelled. "Ten… nine…" I looked at the two elderly people, both on the verge of death because of me. My voice was cold as stone. "I'll sign. On one condition." "You will send up a new bottle of heart medication immediately, and you will get my father-in-law to a hospital. This is between us. Leave them out of it." "Deal." A slow, cruel smile spread across Ross's face. He snapped his fingers. A drone buzzed toward the cable car, the divorce papers clipped to its landing gear. I signed my name without a moment's hesitation. As I reached for the bottle of pills attached to the drone, another shot rang out. The bullet tore straight through the center of my palm. I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming. It was Stella. She was holding a pistol, her eyes glinting with venom. "Ross, baby, her incompetence killed my parents. Why should hers get to live? I don't think so." She pouted, turning her face away. Ross kissed her cheek, his laughter loud and unrestrained. "Patience, my love. Did you really think I'd let her off that easy? That bottle is filled with rat poison." My head snapped up. I stared at him, my mind reeling in disbelief. If Stella hadn't shot my hand, I would have given that poison to his mother. Not even a miracle could have saved her. Seeing the look on my face, Ross’s smile widened. "I never planned on letting any of you live. What difference does it make if you die now or later?" He raised his rifle again, this time aiming at the hook connecting our car to the cable. Bang. The car lurched violently, now hanging by a single, fraying steel wire. The jolt sent my father-in-law flying out the broken window. His hand shot out, his fingers closing around the cable, but he was losing his grip. Dangling from his neck was a jade pendant, a family crest carved into its surface. Ross’s assistant saw it and gasped. "Sir, that pendant… isn't that the Master's?" he stammered. "The one he had made for the two of you from that emerald he found? Sir… is that really him?" For a second, Ross's face tightened with uncertainty. But Stella was right there, whispering poison in his ear. "These people are all thieves, aren't they? Peyton stole my place as your wife, and her father stole your father's necklace. They're a family of criminals!" she hissed. "Ross, you just called your parents last night. They're in the Maldives. How could they possibly be here?" Her words were all it took. The flicker of doubt in his eyes vanished. I was desperately holding onto my father-in-law's arm with one hand, my feet braced against the doorframe. A profound, crushing sense of powerlessness washed over me. It was true, they had been in the Maldives. But they had flown back overnight, a surprise trip to help me fix my marriage with Ross. They had made me promise not to tell him. We were all supposed to ride this sky-tram together. We had waited and waited, but instead of Ross, we got his million-dollar declaration of war. My father-in-law had lost consciousness. He was a dead weight, slipping from my grasp. My arm was dislocated, the pain so intense I could hardly breathe. But I couldn't let him go. I couldn't let him fall hundreds of feet to his death. I squeezed my eyes shut, my voice raw with desperation. "Ross, please, save your father! If you don't, you will regret this for the rest of your life!" I never imagined he could be so monstrous. He raised the rifle one last time, aimed it at my wrist, and pulled the trigger. "Don't you dare call that man my father," he said, his voice flat and empty. "My father is in the Maldives. And I told you, Peyton. Today, you learn what it feels like to lose someone you love." The impact of the bullet shattered my wrist. My hand went numb, my fingers releasing their hold. My father-in-law fell, a straight, silent line into the abyss. A primal, heart-shattering scream was torn from my throat. "DAD!" 3 The cable car was moments from breaking completely. My mother-in-law was hovering between life and death. I was losing so much blood that my vision was starting to blur. From the helicopter, Ross watched us, sipping from a wine glass, utterly at ease. Stella snuggled against him. "Ross, baby," she purred, "let's play a game." He adored her. He would do anything she asked. He tweaked her nose. "Anything for you, my love." A wicked smile spread across her face. She clapped her hands, and a guard appeared, holding a massive, buzzing hornet's nest in a net. She admired her freshly painted nails, then casually gestured toward our car. "Toss it in." The nest sailed through the air and landed with a thud inside the car. A living, buzzing cloud of fury erupted, swarming toward me and my unconscious mother-in-law. I couldn't move fast enough. A hornet stung my arm, and the spot instantly swelled into an angry, painful lump. "I heard a rumor that hornet venom is a folk remedy for heart problems," Stella called out, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "I'm just trying to help your mother-in-law, Peyton. You should be more grateful." She was enjoying this. She gave a signal, and a bucket of honey was splashed into the car. The cloying sweetness filled the air, driving the hornets into a frenzy. Gritting my teeth, I pulled a jacket from my bag and threw it over both of us, a pathetic shield against the onslaught. Ross and Stella’s shrill laughter echoed through the valley. We were their entertainment. The movement made the car swing wildly again. We were thrown against the bent metal frame. And then I saw it—a single, overlooked pill lying in a corner of the car. Ignoring the stinging insects, I lunged for it, my movements fast and desperate. I forced it into my mother-in-law's mouth. Then, with a surge of adrenaline, I kicked the hornet's nest out of the car. It plummeted into the canyon below, its furious inhabitants following it down. I collapsed, every muscle in my body screaming. My mother-in-law began to stir, her breathing still shallow. When her eyes focused and she saw that we were alone, she grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "Where's your father?" My eyes filled with tears. I couldn't speak. I just turned my head away. She understood instantly. From the helicopter, Ross's taunts continued. "Looks like the old hag is still breathing. Need some help finishing the job?" Another shot. This one hit the last remaining cable. My mother-in-law's nails dug into my skin. Her face was a mask of pure hatred. She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out a small, metal object. A flare gun. "Peyton," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. "Signal the Thunder Team. Tell them to come for us." Her body was failing. The effort of speaking was too much, and she slumped back into unconsciousness. I didn't waste a second. I aimed the gun at the sky and fired. A brilliant crimson flare shot into the clouds, exploding in a dazzling burst of light high above the mountain—far brighter and more meaningful than the million-dollar fireworks Ross had set off for Stella. The sight of it made Ross jump to his feet. "She gave you that?" he roared. A flare from the head of the family was a summons of the highest urgency. It meant the matriarch was in mortal danger. As a Sterling, he knew exactly what it meant. Once the Thunder Team—the family's elite private army—arrived, there would be no hiding what he had done. "No," he muttered to himself, his eyes wild with a new, murderous intent. "I can't let my parents find out about this." He reloaded his rifle and aimed it squarely at my head. Stella's eyes gleamed. "That's right, Ross! Kill her!" she urged. "Once she's dead, all your problems will be gone." Her words mirrored his own desperate thoughts. He didn't hesitate. He squeezed the trigger. Bang. 4 The bullet sped toward me. But another bullet, fired from the southwest, was faster. The two rounds collided in mid-air, exploding in a shower of sparks. A squadron of black helicopters, the insignia of the Sterling family's security detail emblazoned on their sides, descended from the clouds, surrounding Ross's chopper. The powerful downdraft nearly blew him off his feet. A man rappelled down from the lead helicopter. It was Ross's uncle, Marcus. "Ross," he boomed, his voice radiating authority, "what in God's name have you done?" Ross's face was a thunderous scowl. "Uncle Marcus, you've been tricked by this lying bitch! She stole the flare gun! My mother isn't here!" Marcus ignored his protests. He landed on the helicopter's skid, reached across, and slapped Ross hard across the face. "Insolence!" he roared. "Have you forgotten all the rules you were taught? How dare you speak back to me!" His voice was like a whip crack. Ross, though seething, could only bow his head. "I understand." The Thunder Team moved with practiced efficiency, quickly airlifting me and my mother-in-law from the dangling wreck. As I was carried past him, Ross glared at me, his voice a low, venomous hiss. "You'd better keep your mouth shut, Peyton. If you breathe a word of this to my parents, I will hunt you down and kill you." Before he could finish, his own assistant interrupted, his face chalk-white. He was pointing at the hand of the unconscious woman being carried onto the rescue helicopter. "Sir," he whispered, his voice trembling, "the scar on her hand… it’s identical to Mrs. Sterling’s."

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