Chapter 4 - The Fall of the House of Reynolds
My father stood up, his gaze sweeping over the flight medics lifting me onto the stretcher.
“Condition, Captain?” he asked without turning his head.
“Severe trauma, General. Grade two placental abruption. Internal hemorrhaging is accelerating,” Captain Mercer reported crisply, keeping two fingers on my carotid pulse as the stretcher rose. “She needs an emergency cesarean section within fifteen minutes, or we lose both of them.”
“Inova Fairfax trauma roof is cleared,” my father said, his voice dropping into command mode. “Colonel, escort my daughter to the bird. I will join her on the pad.”
“Sir!”
As the medics wheeled me past Carter, the boot on Carter’s neck eased just enough for him to lift his bruised, bloodied face.
When Carter’s eyes locked onto the four silver stars pinned to my father’s shoulders, the reality of the situation finally punctured his delusion. The arrogance drained completely, replaced by a hollow, sickening horror.
“You…” Carter choked out, spit spraying from his swollen lips. “You really are…”
My father turned to face him.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t draw a weapon. He simply walked over until the tips of his polished shoes were inches from Carter’s nose.
“Do you know what treason to the hearth is, Mr. Reynolds?” my father murmured.
Eleanor crawled across the floor on her hands and knees, clutching at the hem of my father’s trousers, her manicured fingers clawing desperately. “General! General, please! This is a dreadful, dreadful misunderstanding! She fell! Clara has always been clumsy! My son loves her! He’s a respected lawyer, he would never—!”
My father didn't flinch. He didn't even look down at her.
“Remove your hands from my uniform,” he said quietly.
Eleanor pulled her hands back as if she had touched red-hot iron.
“Major,” my father addressed the tactical commander standing by the door.
“Sir!”
“The house is a crime scene under federal jurisdiction. Secure all digital devices, cloud backups, and personal computers. Call the Director of the FBI’s Washington Field Office. Inform him that an active investigation into felony aggravated domestic battery, attempted murder of an unborn child, and unlawful imprisonment is underway against Carter Reynolds.”
Carter’s eyes widened in sheer panic. “Attempted murder?! I didn't try to kill anyone! You can't charge me with that! I’m an attorney! Uncle Harrison—!”
“Your uncle Harrison was picked up from his home by federal marshals eight minutes ago,” my father said, cold satisfaction lacing every word. “It turns out the D.A.’s office has been laundering campaign contributions through your private trust account, Carter. We’ve been watching your firm for four months. I let it play out through ordinary channels because Clara asked me not to intervene in her life.”
My father leaned down, his face inches from Carter’s terror-stricken eyes.
“She wanted you to be an honorable man. She protected you from the reality of who she was because she wanted your love to be real. But you mistook her gentleness for weakness.”
My father stood upright, adjusting his cuffs.
“You broke her lip. You kicked her while she carried my grandson. And you left her to bleed out on a kitchen floor.”
My father looked at the operator holding Carter down.
“Handcuff him. Cinch the zipties tight enough that he remembers the sensation for the next thirty years. Take the mother too. Accessory to attempted murder.”
“No! Carter! Tell him! Carter!” Eleanor shrieked as two burly federal marshals hauled her to her feet, wrenching her arms behind her back with metallic clicks.
Carter began to blubber, tears carving paths through the dust on his cheeks. “Clara! Clara, tell your father! Tell him I’m sorry! I was stressed! I was drunk! Clara, please!”
The last thing I saw before the doors opened into the roaring night was Carter Reynolds pinned to the floor of the home he had turned into my prison, surrounded by armed men, utterly stripped of the pathetic illusion of control he had weaponized against me for two years.
May you like
Then the stretcher hit the cool, wet air of the yard, and we were lifted into the sky.
***
