Chapter 9 - The True Face
The mask finally shattered. Eleanor didn't bother trying to smile anymore. Her posture straightened, the fragile old woman act dropping entirely. The kindly grandmother vanished into thin air, replaced by a cold, calculating, and ruthlessly efficient stranger. Her eyes, suddenly devoid of any human warmth or empathy, locked onto Mark's like sniper crosshairs.
"Because you were never going to be enough for her, Mark," she said, her voice eerily calm, resonating like still water over a deep, dark abyss. "You are a blue-collar nobody. She is my blood. My legacy. And she was leaving with me tonight to start a real life. You were just a temporary, unfortunate obstacle."
As she spoke, her hand slipped smoothly into the deep pocket of her slacks. The warm indoor light caught the cold, unmistakable metallic glint of a small, suppressed handgun being drawn.
