Chapter 3 - Grandpa's Cold Smile Fades Under Absolute Federal Authority
Jonathan’s knees buckled slightly against the Persian rug as the full weight of federal oversight crushed his illusions of control.
“I founded this empire before your father was even born; you cannot touch me in my own house!” Jonathan protested loudly.
“Your empire was built on embezzlement, shell companies, and the covered-up murders of my intelligence unit,” the father replied.
The stepmother pressed herself flat against the mahogany wall, her navy-blue evening gown soaked in cold sweat.
“Arthur, tell them it was just a family dispute... a misunderstanding!” she cried out, her voice cracking with sheer panic.
Arthur—the father—turned his piercing gaze toward the woman who had just tried to murder his only daughter.
“You called her a bastard who didn’t belong in this family, yet you were the parasite feeding off our trust,” Arthur said.
The four special agents unsnapped their holster straps simultaneously, the subtle click echoing like thunder through the foyer.
“Mr. Vance, we have federal warrants for racketeering, treason, and conspiracy to commit assassination,” the lead agent announced.
Jonathan raised a trembling hand, attempting to shield his face from the impending ruin of his legendary career.
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The golden American flag hanging on the landing behind them seemed to watch down in judgment over the crumbling dynasty.
***
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