Chapter 5
Within minutes, the convoy of black armored SUVs glided down the private gravel drive, leaving the grand estate shrouded in eerie, oppressive silence.
Logan collapsed onto the bottom step of the grand staircase, his head buried in his hands as dry, racking sobs finally broke through his panic.
Eleanor descended the stairs with stiff, mechanical movements, her silver hair slightly disheveled as she looked down at her ruined son.
"Get up off the floor, Logan, and stop weeping like a common vagrant," Eleanor snapped, trying desperately to salvage her shattered aristocratic pride.
"We still have our family trust funds, our offshore accounts in Zurich, and our connections in the federal judiciary."
Logan raised his bloodshot eyes toward his mother, a bitter, hysterical laugh escaping his throat like broken glass.
"Mother, you still don't understand who Arthur Vance is," Logan whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling with sheer terror.
"He doesn't just use the courts; he owns the foundations upon which the courts are built."
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As if on cue, the wall-mounted intercom system in the hallway crackled with static, broadcasting an automated emergency alert tone.
A cold, synthesized female voice echoed through the sprawling mansion: CRITICAL ALERT: ALL DOMESTIC AND INTERNATIONAL ASSETS FROZEN BY FEDERAL ORDER.
