Chapter 3 - THE RECKONING AT THE MANSION
Bear didn't bother using a key. With one powerful kick, the heavy mahogany front door of the estate shattered off its hinges, crashing into the foyer.
Marcus marched straight past my mother, who let out a horrified shriek as tactical boots tracked mud and rain across her prized imported Italian tiles—the very tiles she had cared about more than my bleeding child.
I ran through the front door right behind Marcus. "He's upstairs! The end of the hall!"
Marcus took the stairs three at a time. He reached the locked door of the guest bedroom, gripped the brass knob, and ripped the lock right out of the frame with his bare hands.
Inside, little Leo sat huddled in the corner beneath a blanket, his nose heavily bandaged with a dirty paper towel, holding his broken silver chain. When he saw his father standing in the doorway in uniform, the little boy froze in disbelief.
"Daddy?" Leo whispered, his voice cracking.
The terrifying warrior who had just commanded a squad of deadly operators instantly melted. Marcus dropped to both knees, opening his massive arms. "I'm here, buddy. Daddy's home."
Leo threw himself into his father's chest, sobbing hysterically as Marcus wrapped his arms tightly around him, pressing his face into his son's hair. "I kept the coin, Daddy," Leo wept into Marcus's shoulder, holding up the bloody velvet box. "I didn't let them take it."
Marcus looked down at the bloody box, then at the deep, dark bruises framing his six-year-old’s shattered nose. A terrifying, icy focus settled over my husband's features.
He gently lifted Leo into his arms, carrying him downstairs like he weighed nothing.
When we reached the foyer, federal marshals were already securing hand restraints on my father and Courtney. My mother was hyperventilating on the leather sofa, shouting at her personal lawyer on speakerphone.
"You can't do this to us!" Courtney screamed, thrashing against the marshal holding her arms behind her back. "I am a prominent business owner in this town! Sarah is a broke nobody! She doesn't even have a lawyer!"
"She doesn't need a civilian lawyer, Courtney," Marcus said as he walked toward her, holding our son securely against his chest. "She has the entire legal apparatus of the United States Armed Forces behind her."
Commander Hayes stepped between Courtney and her father. "Ten minutes ago, federal agents executed a simultaneous raid on Courtney's business, Vance & Miller Logistics. We discovered three years of systemic tax evasion, fraudulent government contract bidding, and forged signatures using Captain Vance's stolen military identity."
Courtney’s jaw dropped. She turned wildly toward my father. "Dad... you said the shell accounts were untraceable!"
Richard Miller slammed his mouth shut, realizing too late that his own daughter had just confessed to federal wire fraud in front of active recording devices.
"Take them to the federal holding facility in Chicago," Commander Hayes ordered the marshals. "No bail requests will be considered until the military tribunal concludes its investigation."
As Courtney was dragged out the front door, her heels scraping against the wet stone steps, she looked at me with pure, desperate begging. "Sarah! Please! Tell him to stop! We're sisters!"
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I looked at my sister, then down at my son's bandaged, bruised face.
"You called his father a ghost, Courtney," I said coldly, stepping closer to Marcus. "Now you get to see what happens when the ghost comes to collect."
