Chapter 5 The Revenge of the Dogs
# Chapter 5: The Revenge of the Dogs
The wail of sirens grew louder as emergency vehicles approached the Blackwood estate. Nina pocketed her phone, Vanessa's cryptic message still displayed on the screen, and composed herself. She needed to appear as the concerned wife, not the architect of her husband's downfall. Her performance in the next few hours would determine whether she remained above suspicion.
Nina unlocked the basement door just as red and blue lights began to flash through the windows. She hesitated at the top of the stairs, listening. Ernest's labored breathing was audible, punctuated by occasional moans of distress. The animal stimulant had done its work effectively—his cardiovascular system was in overdrive, his body fighting against the chemical assault.
"Ernest?" she called down, injecting worry into her voice. "The ambulance is here. Hold on!"
She hurried to the front door, opening it as paramedics rushed up the driveway. Two police officers followed close behind, standard procedure for emergency calls from wealthy neighborhoods.
"He's in the basement," Nina explained, leading them through the house. "I don't know what happened. He went down to get something and then I heard crashing sounds. When I tried to check on him, the door was locked from the inside."
It wasn't a perfect lie—the basement door could only be locked from the outside—but in the urgency of the moment, no one questioned it. The paramedics hurried down the stairs while one officer remained with Nina and the other followed the medical team.
"Ma'am, can you tell me exactly what happened?" the officer asked, notebook ready.
Nina gave a convincing performance of the confused, concerned wife. "My husband went to the basement to get a special cleaning solution. We had a spill in his study—an expensive wine on an antique rug. He was down there for a while, and then I heard noises... like things falling. When I called down to him, he didn't respond clearly. He sounded... strange."
The officer nodded, taking notes. "Has your husband had any previous medical conditions? Heart problems, seizures?"
"No, nothing like that," Nina said, wringing her hands. "He's always been in perfect health."
From the basement came the urgent voices of the paramedics: "BP is 190 over 110... pulse is 160 and irregular... we need to move him now!"
Nina followed as they brought Ernest up on a stretcher, an oxygen mask over his face, IV already inserted in his arm. His skin had a grayish tinge, his eyes unfocused as they darted around the room. When his gaze landed on Nina, there was a moment of clarity—and pure hatred.
"Sir, try to stay calm," one paramedic urged as Ernest's heart monitor began beeping more rapidly. "We're taking you to the hospital."
As they wheeled him toward the door, Ernest made a weak attempt to remove his oxygen mask. "She..." he gasped, pointing a trembling finger at Nina. "She did..."
"Please, sir, keep your mask on," the paramedic interrupted, replacing it firmly. "You can talk at the hospital."
Nina maintained her concerned expression, but internally, she calculated. Even if Ernest managed to accuse her, what evidence did he have? The livestream had been anonymous, the cleaning solution would show no traces of tampering, and her call to emergency services was that of a worried wife. It would look like the desperate deflection of a man caught in his own crimes.
"I'll follow in my car," Nina told the paramedics as they loaded Ernest into the ambulance.
"Are you sure you're okay to drive, ma'am?" the officer asked. "You seem shaken."
"I'll be fine," Nina assured him. "I need to bring his medical insurance information anyway."
The officer nodded sympathetically. "We'll need a statement from you later, but that can wait until tomorrow. Take care of yourself and your husband for now."
As the ambulance pulled away, lights flashing but sirens now silent, Nina returned to the house to gather her purse and Ernest's insurance details. She also slipped the USB drive with her evidence into her bag—insurance of a different kind.
Before leaving, she paused at Ernest's computer and quickly deleted all traces of the livestream from the browser history. Then she checked her phone and saw dozens of missed calls and messages from Ernest's business associates and friends who had witnessed his meltdown online. She ignored them all.
The drive to Mercy General Hospital gave Nina time to plan her next moves. Ernest was clearly in serious condition, but she couldn't be certain whether it would prove fatal. She needed to be prepared for either outcome.
If he survived, he would undoubtedly accuse her of poisoning him. She would counter with evidence of his murder plot. The livestream was gone from the platform, but hundreds of thousands of people had seen it, and recordings would inevitably have been made. The court of public opinion had already convicted Ernest Blackwood.
If he died... well, that simplified things in some ways and complicated them in others. She would need to appear appropriately grieved while ensuring that the truth about his character and crimes became the dominant narrative.
And then there was Vanessa—the wild card in this scenario. What did she want? Why had she seemed almost supportive of Nina's revenge plot? The prenup addendum clearly connected them somehow, but Nina needed more information.
At the hospital, Nina was directed to the cardiac intensive care unit waiting room. A doctor approached her shortly after her arrival.
"Mrs. Blackwood? I'm Dr. Sharma. We've stabilized your husband for now, but he's experienced a severe cardiac event. We're running toxicology tests to determine the cause. Has he taken any medications or substances that you're aware of?"
Nina widened her eyes. "No, nothing unusual. He had some scotch earlier this evening, but that's normal for him. Is he... will he be okay?"
Dr. Sharma's expression was grave. "The next 24 hours will be critical. His heart has sustained significant stress, and there may be permanent damage. We're doing everything we can."
"Can I see him?" Nina asked.
"Briefly. He's sedated now, but sometimes patients can still hear even when they appear unconscious."
Perfect, Nina thought.
She followed the doctor to Ernest's room. The sight of her powerful, controlling husband reduced to a frail figure in a hospital bed, connected to various machines that beeped and hummed, should have brought her satisfaction. Instead, she felt strangely hollow. This man had planned to kill her, had likely killed others, and yet seeing him so vulnerable stirred complicated emotions.
"I'll give you a moment," Dr. Sharma said, leaving Nina alone with Ernest.
Nina approached the bed and leaned down, her lips close to Ernest's ear. His eyes remained closed, his breathing mechanical and assisted.
"I know you can hear me," she whispered. "You thought you were so clever, didn't you? Planning my death so carefully. But I was always smarter than you gave me credit for."
She straightened up and spoke at normal volume in case anyone was listening outside. "The doctors are doing everything they can, darling. You're going to be fine."
Then she leaned down again, her voice dropping to a whisper. "By the way, nearly four hundred thousand people watched you fall apart tonight. Every business contact, every social connection you've cultivated. They all saw the real Ernest Blackwood. And they heard your murder plans too. So even if you survive this, your life as you know it is over."
Nina could have sworn she saw Ernest's eyelids flicker, his heart monitor beeping slightly faster. She smiled and continued her quiet monologue.
"You know what's ironic? If you had just been a decent husband, you could have had everything. My family's money, my loyalty, my love even. But you got greedy. And cruel."
A nurse entered the room, checking Ernest's vitals. "Everything okay in here, Mrs. Blackwood?"
"Yes, just letting him know I'm here," Nina replied with a sad smile. "How long will he be sedated?"
"At least until morning. You should go home and get some rest. We'll call if there's any change."
Nina nodded gratefully. "Thank you. I think I will. It's been... quite a night."
After leaving her contact information with the nurses' station, Nina drove home, her mind still processing the rapid sequence of events that had transformed her from victim to victor in the span of a few hours.
When she arrived back at the mansion, she immediately sensed something was wrong. The front door was slightly ajar, though she was certain she had locked it when leaving for the hospital.
Nina cautiously pushed the door open wider. The entryway was dark, but she could make out shapes moving in the shadows of the living room. Her hand reached for her phone, ready to call the police, when a familiar sound stopped her—the soft whine of a dog.
She flipped on the light switch to reveal three Dobermans sitting in her living room, their dark coats gleaming, intelligent eyes fixed on her. Ernest's hunting dogs from the country estate—animals she had rarely seen as he kept them primarily for weekend hunting trips.
"What in the world?" Nina whispered.
"They came to pay their respects," said a voice from the corner of the room.
Nina whirled around to find a woman rising from Ernest's favorite armchair—tall and elegant, with the same striking blue eyes as Ernest but sharper, more calculating. She wore an expensive black pantsuit and held a crystal tumbler of what appeared to be Ernest's prized scotch.
"Vanessa," Nina breathed.
Ernest's sister smiled, raising her glass in a mock toast. "In the flesh. After three years of being the estranged, possibly dead sister, it's nice to finally meet my dear sister-in-law."
Nina remained near the door, her body tense. "How did you get in? And why are the dogs here?"
"I have keys. Ernest never changed the locks after our 'falling out.' As for the dogs..." Vanessa gestured toward the animals with her glass. "Let's just say I thought they might want to be here for the next phase."
"Next phase of what?" Nina asked cautiously.
"Your revenge, of course." Vanessa took a sip of her drink. "Which, I must say, has been impressive so far. The livestream was inspired. But incomplete."
Nina studied the woman before her—the sister Ernest had claimed was unstable, greedy, dangerous. The sister who was supposedly cut out of the family fortune for her erratic behavior. Yet here she sat, perfectly composed and apparently enjoying the downfall of her own brother.
"Why are you helping me?" Nina finally asked. "What's your stake in this?"
Vanessa set down her glass and approached one of the Dobermans, stroking its sleek head. The dog leaned into her touch with familiar affection.
"Ernest told you I was crazy, didn't he? That I was cut off from the family for being unstable?" She laughed softly. "He told everyone that story. It was more palatable than the truth."
"Which is?"
"That I discovered what he did to our parents."
The statement hung in the air between them, heavy with implication.
"The official story is that they died in a sailing accident," Vanessa continued. "But I found evidence that Ernest had tampered with the boat. Our father had just changed his will, you see. Ernest wasn't getting as much as he thought he deserved."
Nina felt a chill run down her spine. "You're saying he killed your parents? His own parents?"
"Ernest has always been efficient at removing obstacles. When I confronted him, he gave me a choice: take a substantial payment and disappear, or meet with an 'accident' myself." Vanessa's expression hardened. "I took the money and bided my time. Then he married you, and I saw history repeating itself."
"The prenup addendum," Nina said, remembering Vanessa's text message. "What did you mean about checking it again?"
Vanessa smiled. "Look at the beneficiary conditions carefully. In the event of Ernest's death while married, his assets don't go to his wife as one might expect. They go to his sister—specifically to 'compensate for previously withheld familial inheritance.'"
Nina's eyes widened as understanding dawned. "You set me up as the fall person. If Ernest dies, you get everything, and I'm the obvious suspect."
"Not exactly," Vanessa corrected. "I set up a scenario where justice could be served, one way or another. If Ernest succeeded in killing you, I had evidence ready to expose him. If you managed to turn the tables..." She gestured around them. "Well, here we are."
"And what now? You expect me to finish what I started? To kill him while he's helpless in the hospital?" Nina's voice was incredulous.
"Oh no," Vanessa said, moving toward the basement door. "I have something much more fitting in mind."
She opened the door, revealing the dark staircase below. "Shall we?"
Against her better judgment, Nina followed Vanessa down to the basement. The Dobermans padded silently behind them, their nails clicking on the concrete steps.
In the storage area, Vanessa flipped on the light and moved toward a large trunk that Nina had never seen before. She opened it to reveal an array of items: documents, photographs, and a small velvet pouch.
"Ernest's trophies," Vanessa explained, lifting out the pouch. "From each of his victims."
She emptied the contents into her palm—a woman's necklace with a delicate silver pendant. Nina gasped, recognizing it immediately.
"That's my mother's," she whispered. "She was wearing it when she disappeared five years ago. The police said she likely committed suicide, but her body was never found."
"Because Ernest disposed of it," Vanessa said flatly. "Your mother was investigating some of his business practices. She got too close to uncovering his money laundering operation."
Nina took the necklace with trembling hands, memories of her mother flooding back—her warmth, her determination, her unexplained absence that had left a hole in Nina's life.
"How do you know all this?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
"Because I've been tracking him for years. Gathering evidence, waiting for the right moment." Vanessa reached back into the trunk and pulled out a small device. "And now, we have the perfect opportunity to complete the circle."
She activated the device, and Nina recognized it as a remote control for the mansion's security system. A hidden panel in the wall slid open, revealing a small room Nina had never known existed.
Inside was a state-of-the-art surveillance setup with multiple monitors. Vanessa pressed a few buttons, and the screens came to life, showing various views of the hospital—including Ernest's room.
"How did you—"
"Ernest has surveillance everywhere. He likes to keep tabs on his investments, even when they're receiving medical care." Vanessa's smile was cold. "And now, we use his own system against him."
She tapped a few more keys, and one screen showed the interior of a transport vehicle. Inside were cages containing more Dobermans—at least six of them, all alert and restless.
"What is this?" Nina asked, though she was beginning to understand.
"Ernest trained these dogs himself, using cruel methods to make them aggressive. What he doesn't know is that I've been working with them too, training them to respond to specific commands and scents." Vanessa held up a small vial. "Like the scent of this particular cologne—Ernest's signature fragrance."
Nina stared at the screens, at the dogs, at her mother's necklace still clutched in her hand. "You're going to set the dogs on him."
"No, we are," Vanessa corrected. "Or rather, they will act on their own, as far as anyone can tell. A tragic accident. The dogs somehow escaped their transport, found their way to their master's hospital room, and... well, nature took its course."
"Why involve me in this? You clearly had this planned."
Vanessa regarded Nina thoughtfully. "Because you deserved to know the truth. About your mother. About Ernest. And because I thought you might appreciate the poetry of it all."
Nina looked down at her mother's necklace, then at the dogs on the screen, then back to the Dobermans sitting quietly in the basement, watching her with intelligent eyes.
"These dogs," she said slowly, "they were with Ernest when he... when my mother..."
Vanessa nodded. "The older one was. Ernest used him to track her down when she tried to hide. Poetic justice, don't you think?"
Nina approached the oldest Doberman, who regarded her solemnly. She reached out slowly, and the dog allowed her to attach her mother's necklace to his collar.
"Do it," Nina said quietly, standing up. "Let them have their revenge too."
Vanessa's smile was triumphant as she activated the remote system. On the screen, they watched as a hospital security door mysteriously unlocked, allowing the transport vehicle's back doors to open. The caged dogs were released by another remote command.
What followed was chaos captured in silent video feeds: dogs racing through hospital corridors, staff scattering in panic, security guards trying ineffectually to contain the situation.
Then the feed from Ernest's room showed the door bursting open as three Dobermans entered, growling. Ernest, who had apparently regained consciousness, tried to sit up in alarm. His heart monitor began beeping frantically as he recognized the dogs.
"No," he gasped, his voice weak but audible through the surveillance system. "Down! Stay!"
But the dogs did not obey their former master. They approached the bed, hackles raised, responding to the scent Vanessa had trained them to target.
Nina and Vanessa watched in silence as the lead dog—a muscular black Doberman with a white patch on its chest—leaped onto the bed. The hospital room door closed somehow, trapping Ernest with the animals.
The night vision camera captured what happened next.
Later, when the police reviewed the hospital security footage—the official footage, not Ernest's private surveillance—they would find only static during the crucial minutes. A technical glitch, they would conclude. Unfortunate timing.
Nina turned away from the screen, unable to watch the gruesome scene unfolding. Vanessa, however, observed dispassionately, her expression unchanged.
When it was over, Vanessa switched off the monitors and turned to Nina.
"It's done," she said simply.
Nina took a deep breath, feeling a complex mixture of emotions—horror at the violence she had just sanctioned, relief that Ernest could never hurt anyone again, grief for her mother, whose murder would likely never be officially solved.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"Now," Vanessa said, "you become the grieving widow. I'll be the estranged sister who returns to support you in your time of need. Together, we'll manage the Blackwood estate and businesses."
"And the prenup addendum?"
Vanessa smiled. "Already taken care of. By tomorrow, that document will no longer exist. Instead, Ernest's legitimate will leaves everything to his 'beloved wife, Nina.'"
Nina nodded slowly, processing the new reality. "The dogs?"
"Will return to the country estate. No one will connect them to what happened at the hospital." Vanessa approached Nina and placed a hand on her shoulder. "You did what you had to do. Ernest was a monster who would have killed you without hesitation, just as he killed your mother and my parents."
"I know," Nina said quietly. "But that doesn't make this easy."
"It's not supposed to be easy," Vanessa replied. "But it is just."
As they climbed the stairs back to the main floor, Nina's phone rang with the call she had been expecting—the hospital, informing her of a "tragic incident" involving her husband.
"Mrs. Blackwood?" the voice on the other end said. "I'm afraid there's been a terrible accident. Your husband... he's gone. Some dogs somehow got into the hospital and... I'm so sorry."
Nina sank into a chair, her performance beginning. "What? No, that can't be... dogs? I don't understand..."
As she played the role of the shocked widow, Vanessa poured two glasses of scotch and handed one to Nina after she ended the call.
"To justice," Vanessa said quietly. "Long overdue."
Nina looked at the three Dobermans now lying peacefully on the living room floor, her mother's necklace glinting on the oldest one's collar.
"To the instruments of justice," she replied, raising her glass toward the dogs. "Ernest's most loyal companions... until the end."
The oldest Doberman looked up at her, his dark eyes somehow knowing, and Nina felt a strange sense of completion. Her mother had been avenged. Her own life had been saved. And Ernest Blackwood's reign of calculated cruelty had finally come to an end—at the teeth of the very creatures he had trained to hunt and kill.
