Page 121 of Trailer Park Billionaire

A familiar feeling settles low in my gut, like an old enemy.

I slam the RV into park by the garbage cans out back and don’t even bother locking it. Then I barge through the back door and make my way to the atrium.

First, I don’t see anyone, and then they’re everywhere. Police officers. I leave the annex, round a corridor and nearly collide with a pair of them escorting someone in cuffs. My heart drops to my knees?—

But it’s not him. It’s his brother.

Maximilian St. Clair.

His suit is impeccable, but his jaw is tight, eyes dark with something more than rage. He sees me, and stops walking. Just for a second. Just long enough to glare.

If looks could kill, I’d be in a can of paint right now. Then the officers drag him along.

Behind him, his father follows, silent and brooding, his handcuffed wrists shaking, not from embarrassment, but from anger. Another pair of officers flank him like a dangerous felon.

I turn, wanting to shout for Ben. It looks like his plan worked the way he intended—which is when I see it, when I see Elaine.

Getting cuffed. Like the St. Clairs.

“Wait—what? No.” I push toward her. “No, no, no—what are you doing?”

“Helena,” she says when she discovers me, her voice calm. Too calm. Like she knew this was coming.

“There’s been a mistake,” I say to the officer holding her arm. “You don’t understand—she didn’t—she’s not?—”

“Stop,” Elaine cuts in, her eyes flicking to mine, sharp and steady. She leans in, just slightly. “I’ll explain everything later,” she says gently. “Take care of the museum for me while I’m gone, alright? Especially the Greek statues in the back.” She straightens her shoulders and nods. “And promise to visit me?”

My mouth drops open while I’m trying to process what’s happening here. I just nod.

What the hell is happening?

“Good. I love you, Helena. And I’ll see you soon.”

“I… love you too?” I say more confused than ever when they lead her away. I want to scream. To cry. To stop them. But I can’t seem to move.

Then, from somewhere nearby, I overhear one of the officers. “So you’re saying the whole thing was recorded?”

I turn toward the sound. Two cops are questioning Pat.

“Yeah, she set up cameras,” Pat explains, handing them a flash drive. “The whole meeting’s on tape. You’ll see it all. Every crime. Every confession. Every lie.”

“And you’re saying there’s a forgery that should have been evidence in an old case in which they framed someone for their crimes?”

“Still in its case,” Pat shrugs and points to it. “Untouched.”

“Alright, alright,” the officer says and drums on his big belly. “Should be a closed-and-shut case then. We’ll need you to come down to the station some time, but for now that will be all.” Then he turns to the rest of the officers that are still lingering. “Okay, pack it up boys. Looks like we’ve successfully solved another crime. Time for celebratory naps.”

I stare as they all disappear into the night.

And then it’s just me.

And Pat.

Ben is nowhere to be seen.

So I turn my stare to him.

“I monitored the feed,” he begins. “She told me to watch from the security room and wait for the signal to call it in.”