Chapter 6 - The Panic in the Mansion
6
Back at the Ashton estate, the panic Marcus had predicted was already tearing through the household like a wildfire. Through the remote audio feed of a micro-bug Marcus had slipped behind the baseboard in Richard’s study during our escape, we listened in real-time as the family gathered for an emergency council of war.
"What do you mean the lockbox is gone?!" Margaret’s voice shrieked, the usual icy composure completely shattered. "Are you out of your mind, Richard? That box contained forty years of paper trails! If those documents fall into the wrong hands, the entire foundation of this family collapses overnight!"
"I had the perimeter guards sweep the entire property!" Richard roared back, the sound of glass shattering against a wall echoing through the hidden speaker. "Whoever broke in didn't just stumble through the window—they knew exactly where the wall panel was! They knew the combination to the physical lockbox! That means there was a leak from the inside!"
"A leak?" Lauren chimed in, her voice trembling with rising hysteria. "Who could have leaked anything? We vetted everyone on the estate staff twice! Unless... unless Clara didn't just run away like a scared little rabbit. What if she has help?"
"Clara is a penniless nobody from the suburbs!" Richard barked dismissively, though a subtle note of unease laced his words. "She doesn't have the brains or the resources to crack our security grid. She's probably cowering in some fleabag motel right now, waiting for us to legally crush her. But that doesn't change the fact that someone breached the study. If those files are recovered by federal investigators, the SEC inquiry alone will strip us of every corporate asset we hold."
"We need to accelerate the CPS filing," Margaret insisted, her tone hardening into pure malice. "We don't wait for her to make a move. We file an emergency ex parte motion this morning, claiming she kidnapped her own child, abused her, and fled the jurisdiction. With Judge Holloway presiding today, we can secure an immediate bench warrant for her arrest and an emergency pickup order for Emma."
I gripped the edge of the workbench in the safehouse, my knuckles turning white. Judge Holloway. Marcus had mentioned him earlier—a notoriously corrupt circuit judge whose campaign funds had been heavily financed by Ashton-linked shell companies for over a decade. If they got their hands on an ex parte order signed by Holloway, local law enforcement would treat us like fugitives, hunting us down under the guise of child recovery while Margaret and Richard swallowed Emma into their black-hole estate.
"They're moving faster than we anticipated," I said, looking up at Marcus. "If they get Judge Holloway to sign that warrant today, we won't have forty-eight hours to build our federal case."
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"Then we change the timeline," Marcus said calmly, sliding a heavy duffel bag across the table. "We don't wait for the federal indictment to trickle through bureaucratic channels. We drop the entire unredacted evidence package directly onto the national media wire and the Department of Justice's public integrity desk simultaneously. Public exposure is the ultimate shield against corrupt judges."
"Do it," I said without a single second of hesitation. "Burn their empire to the ground."
