Chapter 4 - The Blackmail Play
By ten o'clock, the outside guests had gone, leaving behind empty glasses, crumpled napkins, and the pungent reek of stale tobacco.
The living room had been transformed into an impromptu boardroom. Richard sat in my grandfather's leather wingback chair, an open leather folder resting on his knees. Vance sat across from him on the sofa, typing rapidly on his iPad, while Chloe lay stretched out on the other side, filing her nails with absolute disinterest. Evelyn stood by the fireplace, arms crossed, the enforcer of family orthodoxy.
"Avery," Richard barked, not looking up. "Get in here."
I walked in and stood at the edge of the oriental rug. "Yes, Dad?"
"Sit down."
"I prefer to stand."
Richard’s jaw tightened. He pulled a gold Montblanc pen from his breast pocket and clicked it with a deliberate, rhythmic cadence. *Click. Clack. Click. Clack.*
"We’re going to finalize this tonight," Richard said, his tone adopting the crisp, authoritarian cadence he used to employ when he was an active-duty lieutenant colonel thirty years ago. "Dalton won't be necessary. We have our own notary coming by first thing tomorrow morning. Vance has prepared the quitclaim deeds. The house and the surrounding parcels will be transferred to Highland Heritage Investments."
"And what do I get in exchange?" I asked, my voice completely devoid of inflection.
"You get your debts settled," Richard said bluntly. "You get to stay on the active-duty fast track without any black marks on your record. And Vance has graciously agreed to allocate you a five-percent non-voting preferred share in the holding entity once the commercial development is finalized."
"Five percent," I repeated. "On a property worth 1.8 million dollars, fully paid off by Grandfather, with zero debt until three weeks ago."
Vance chuckled without looking up from his tablet. "Five percent of a multi-million-dollar retail development is more cash flow than an Army Major makes in three years, Avery. You should be thanking me. I’m doing the heavy lifting."
"And what happens to the two hundred and ten thousand dollars you pulled out on the equity line?" I asked, looking directly at Vance.
The room went instantly silent.
Vance’s thumbs stopped moving across the screen. Chloe stopped filing her nails. Richard slowly capped his pen, his eyes narrowing into cold slits.
"Where did you hear that number?" Richard asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous register.
"I checked my credit report, Dad," I said, offering a small, sad, believable half-smile. "I might be 'just a logistics officer,' but I know when somebody runs a hard inquiry on my Social Security number. You used my name to pull a second mortgage on this property. You and Vance."
Evelyn let out a sharp, exasperated sigh. "Richard, I told you she was snooping."
Richard stood up, towering over me, using every inch of his physical presence to intimidate me just as he had done when I was a teenager. He stepped into my personal space until his face was inches from mine.
"Listen to me very carefully, young lady," he snarled, pointing the heavy gold pen at my chest. "You don't interrogate me in my own house. You were able to buy those boots on your feet because of the family name. Now, here is how tomorrow morning goes: you sit at that dining room table, you smile at the notary, and you sign every single line that has a yellow flag on it."
"And if I refuse to sign?" I asked, refusing to take a single step backward.
Richard smiled—a hideous, cruel smirk that showed all his teeth.
"Then tomorrow at noon, an official memorandum lands on the desk of General Paul Hastings, the president of your Major selection board. In that memorandum will be documentation of your severe psychological distress, your paranoid delusions since returning from deployment, and a formal complaint from this family regarding your erratic and threatening behavior. I’ve known Paul Hastings since he was a company commander at Fort Bragg. He will strike your name from the promotion list before the ink is dry. Your career will be over. You’ll be medically discharged with a fractured reputation, no pension, and no home."
He leaned in closer, his hot breath smelling of bourbon and cigars.
"You have zero cards, Avery. Sign the papers, or I will destroy your life."
I looked at him. I looked at Evelyn, who watched with cold satisfaction. I looked at Chloe, who was smirking behind her manicured hands, and Vance, who was already back to browsing real estate listings on his iPad.
They were completely convinced of their absolute dominance.
I let out a slow, trembling breath, feigning an internal collapse. I bowed my head.
"I need tonight," I murmured, my voice shaking on cue. "Just... let me sleep on it. I’ll make my decision by eight AM."
Richard let out a triumphant bark of laughter. He clapped me hard on the shoulder, a brutal, dismissive pat.
"That’s my girl. I knew you’d see reason. Now take your bags down to the basement and stay out of the way. We have a lot of work to do in the morning."
I turned without another word and walked down the basement stairs.
Once the basement door clicked shut, I pulled out my laptop, connected it to the encrypted military satellite hot-spot I had checked out from the communications depot, and initiated a secure video call.
Morales and Dalton appeared on the split screen instantly.
"Did you get it?" Morales asked.
I turned the screen around to show the high-definition recording software. Every threat, every confession, every admission of fraud and SCRA violation was saved in pristine 4K video and lossless audio.
"I have it all," I said. "Every single word."
Dalton smiled like a shark catching the scent of blood in the surf.
May you like
"Good," Dalton said. "Because I just got the unredacted trust documents from the state archive. Captain Mercer... your grandfather was ten steps ahead of your father. Wait until you hear what Arthur put in the fine print."
***
