Chapter 8 - The Desperate Pursuit
The words hung in the air like poison gas.
Richard’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. "What... what did you say?"
General Grant stepped up beside Emma, his arms folded behind his broad back. "What Lieutenant Lawson means, Mr. Lawson, is that thirty minutes ago, the Defense Procurement Oversight Committee formally disqualified Lawson Strategic Logistics from the European distribution bid."
"On what grounds?!" Sandra shrieked, dropping all pretense of elegance. "You can't do that! Richard has spent millions preparing that infrastructure!"
"On the grounds of severe ethical and character violations," Grant said, his voice dropping into a register that made even the surrounding civilians fall quiet. "A contractor who assaults an officer of the United States military at the perimeter gate of an installation is considered an active security liability."
"I didn't assault anyone!" Richard yelled, sweat pouring down his neck. "She’s my daughter! A father has the right to discipline his child!"
"I am an officer of the United States Armed Forces," Emma said with total finality. "I ceased being your child the day you abandoned my mother in the hospital, and I ceased being your family the day you locked me out of my own life."
Emma reached out her gloved hand. With two fingers, she caught the gold lanyard hanging around Brooke’s neck and lifted it smoothly over her stepsister’s head.
Brooke flinched as if burned.
Emma held the gold card in her palm for a moment, then dropped it onto the floor at Richard’s feet.
"You wanted the pass, Richard? Keep it. It's the only thing you will ever have left of me."
"Emma, wait!" Richard lunged forward, trying to grab her hand, but the two MPs instantly struck his arms with their batons, forcing him down to his knees on the slick stadium turf.
"Step back, sir! You are under arrest for trespassing in an active flag-officer perimeter!" the MP barked.
"Emma! You can't do this to me!" Richard screamed from the ground, his expensive trousers soaking up the wet mud of the turf. "I gave you a home! I paid for your prep school!"
"My mother paid for my prep school with her life insurance," Emma replied, her voice cold as winter ice. "You used the rest of her estate to buy Sandra’s luxury cars and Brooke’s vacations. But the trust had a clause, Richard. Did you forget?"
Richard looked up, his face pale with sudden, horrifying realization.
"The moment I earned a federal commission," Emma said, "the remaining executor rights over my mother’s family trust automatically revert to me. That includes the deed to the warehouse facility your logistics firm operates out of in Norfolk."
Richard’s eyes bulged. "No... Emma, no. That’s my primary distribution hub. If you seize the Norfolk lease, the banks will call in my loans by tomorrow morning!"
"Then I suggest you start packing your boxes," Emma said quietly. "You have thirty days to vacate my mother’s property."
"Emma! You monster! You ungrateful bitch!" Sandra shrieked, lunging forward, but a female MP grabbed Sandra’s wrist, twisting her arm behind her back and forcing her against the security barrier.
"Ma'am, you are interfering with a military escort! One more word and you spend the night in federal detention!" the MP warned.
May you like
Brooke stood trembling, tears streaming down her carefully applied foundation, watching the flashbulbs of dozens of military and civilian journalists who were snapping photos of the Lawson family being brought down in disgrace.
---
