Chapter 6 - the crack in the armor
The luxurious gala ended in a chaotic scramble. The influential guests who had been singing the Fergusons' praises minutes prior fled through the emergency exits, desperate to avoid being associated with a federal treason investigation. The grand ballroom was left in ruins, littered with abandoned champagne glasses and the shattered remains of the Ferguson ego.
"You think you’ve won, Rachel?" Patricia hissed, her voice trembling with pure, unadulterated venom. Her hands shook so violently she could barely hold her designer purse. "We have millions of dollars. We will hire the most ruthless attorneys in the country. We will drag this through the courts for a decade, and your daughter will spend every single day of those ten years looking over her shoulder!"
I looked at her with genuine pity. "Patricia, you still don't get it. This isn't a civil dispute. This is a federal criminal indictment. No lawyer in the world can defend container ships loaded with contraband using falsified military manifests. Your money is about to be frozen. You have nothing left."
I turned and walked away, leaving the hysterical screams of Nicholas and the stunned silence of Gregory behind me.
Back at Fort Liberty, I immediately ordered Vance to double the security around Abigail’s quarters.
"Colonel, do you really think they’d try something on a military base?" Vance asked, looking over the perimeter maps.
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"Nicholas is a desperate, unstable addict," I replied, watching the security feeds. "When a man realizes his wealth, his status, and his power are completely gone, he doesn't think logically. He will lash out. And he will blame Abigail."
That night, I sat by Abigail's bedside. I didn't sleep. I watched her peaceful face, praying that the storm would pass quickly, but preparing myself for the final, desperate strike of a cornered animal.
