My Arrogant Cousin Tried to Evict Me and Steal Our War Fleet — I Froze His Accounts in Four Minutes, But the Legal War That Followed Cost Me My Son
Colonel Henderson did not hesitate. His voice, usually measured, now cracked with the cold authority of wartime law. “Military Police! Arrest Arthur Davenport and Victoria Albright immediately.”
Two stern-faced military policemen, who had been standing silently at the rear of the hall, moved with swift, decisive steps. They reached Arthur and Victoria before either could react.
Judge Montgomery, his face a ghastly shade of pale, scrambled from his bench. He stammered, attempting to justify his actions, but Henderson merely pointed a curt finger toward the door. “Judge Montgomery, you will face a full federal investigation for obstruction and conspiracy. You are dismissed.”
Montgomery, stripped of his pomp, fled the courtroom, his robes flapping behind him.
Arthur, finally comprehending the swift and brutal shift in his fortunes, let out a strangled cry. “No! This is illegal! I have rights! You can’t do this!”
One of the military policemen snapped an iron handcuff onto Arthur’s left wrist. The cold metal glinted under the emergency lamps. Arthur struggled, screaming in a panic, his arrogance dissolving into pure terror.
“This is military law, Davenport,” Henderson stated, his voice flat. “Your civilian ‘rights’ are suspended for acts of wartime treason.”
The other policeman moved to Victoria. She didn’t scream, but a look of venomous hatred crossed her features as the cuffs closed around her wrists. Her high-society lifestyle, her carefully constructed facade, crumbled in an instant.
My legal maneuvering had been crushed. Arthur’s grandiose plans had been obliterated by a waterlogged dispatch tube and a nineteen-year-old boy. The relief that washed over me was immense, but it was quickly overshadowed by a growing anxiety.
I stood from my seat, my eyes sweeping the doorway, scanning for Thomas. He should be here. He should be walking in, triumphant, a hero vindicated. This was his victory.
But the doorway remained empty. The chaos of Arthur’s arrest, the shouts, the metallic clink of handcuffs, all faded into a distant hum. My gaze was fixed on that empty space, a cold dread coiling in my stomach. Where was my son?
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