Chapter 1 - The Cost of Three Months' Wages
My Boss Had Me Beaten and Both My Legs Broken for Asking for Three Months of Unpaid Wages—Then My Dad Arrived With His Old Special Forces Unit...
“Tell the paramedics she fell down the stairs.”
Those were the first words I heard my boss say after his two security guards broke both my legs.
My name is Audrey Bellamy. I’m 31 years old, and until that afternoon, I never imagined that asking for three months of unpaid wages could leave me lying on freezing concrete, begging someone to call an ambulance.
“Please,” I whispered. “I can't feel my right foot.”
My boss, Graham Duvall, stood six feet away in his expensive Italian suit, adjusting his cuff links as though my screaming had interrupted an important business meeting.
“You should have thought about the consequences before threatening me,” he replied.
One of his guards, Martin Keene, wiped sweat from his forehead. The younger guard, Colby Nash, looked pale.
“Mr. Duvall,” Colby muttered, “I think she's seriously hurt.”
Graham turned toward him.
“Then stop standing there looking stupid and get her off my property.”
I tried to move.
A terrible pain shot through my left leg, followed by a sickening sensation in my right. I screamed so loudly that a woman across the parking lot dropped her coffee.
Martin grabbed my jacket.
“Get up.”
“I can't!”
“Don't make this harder.”
He pulled again.
I felt something shift beneath my knee, and the world almost went black.
“STOP!” someone shouted from the sidewalk.
A woman was holding up her phone.
Graham immediately stepped between her camera and me.
“This is a private employment matter,” he announced. “Security is handling an aggressive former employee.”
Aggressive.
That was the word he chose.
Not injured.
Not terrified.
Not a woman who had worked sixty-hour weeks keeping his company alive while he withheld her paycheck.
I reached for my phone, which had landed beneath a parked SUV.
“Give me my phone.”
Martin glanced at Graham.
Graham shook his head.
“No more calls until she calms down.”
For the first time that afternoon, I was genuinely afraid I might die.
Then Colby did something unexpected.
While Graham argued with the woman recording us, the younger guard quietly kicked my phone close enough for me to reach.
His eyes met mine.
“Make the call,” he whispered.
My trembling fingers found one number.
Dad.
He answered immediately.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
I opened my mouth, but all that came out was a sob.
“Audrey?”
“Dad...”
His voice sharpened.
“What happened?”
“My boss... he had his guards beat me.”
Silence.
Then a question.
“Where are you?”
“Crestline Protective Technologies. The office on Kingston Pike.”
“Are you bleeding?”
“I don't know. Dad, I think both my legs are broken.”
Another silence.
Then his voice became frighteningly calm.
“Listen carefully. Don't try to stand. Tell someone to call 911. I'm coming.”
“Dad, please don't—”
The call ended.
I stared at the dark screen.
My father, Gideon Bellamy, was a retired Army Special Forces senior noncommissioned officer.
He had served more than twenty years, much of that time with the same small group of men.
He was also the reason I had hidden my financial problems for three months.
Dad had never been particularly good at watching someone he loved suffer.
And I had spent my entire adult life trying to convince him that I could handle things myself.
Now I couldn't even stand.
Graham noticed the phone in my hand.
“Who did you call?”
I said nothing.
His expression hardened.
“I'm talking to you.”
“My father.”
He laughed.
“Your daddy? What is he going to do? Ground me?”
Martin chuckled nervously.
But Colby didn't laugh.
Instead, he looked toward the building, where several employees were watching through the glass doors.
One of them was Jillian Sloane from accounting.
She had both hands pressed against her mouth.
Our eyes met.
Then she disappeared inside.
I thought she was abandoning me.
I wouldn't learn until much later what she had actually gone to retrieve.
The ambulance dispatcher was speaking through the phone of the woman on the sidewalk when Graham crouched beside me.
His cologne made me nauseous.
“Listen closely, Audrey,” he whispered. “You'll tell them you slipped. I'll pay your hospital bills, and we can forget this unfortunate incident.”
I stared at him.
“You ordered them to hurt me.”
His smile disappeared.
“Be careful what you accuse people of.”
“You heard me scream.”
“You were being difficult.”
“You broke my legs because I asked for my paycheck!”
He leaned closer.
“And who do you think anyone will believe?”
That question stayed with me.
Not because I believed he was right.
Because I knew he had spent years making other employees believe exactly that.
Then three vehicles pulled into the parking lot.
A dark pickup.
A silver SUV.
An old blue Ford.
They stopped near the entrance.
The first door opened.
My father stepped out.
He was sixty-two, broad-shouldered, silver-haired, and wearing faded jeans and a dark jacket.
He didn't look like a man arriving for a fight.
He looked like a man trying very hard not to have one.
Four other men emerged behind him.
Rafe Harlan.
Patrick Sutter.
Isaac Moreno.
Leonard Briggs.
Men I had known since childhood.
Men who had served beside my father overseas and somehow remained closer than brothers after retirement.
Graham watched them approach.
“Are you the family?” he demanded.
Dad didn't answer.
He looked straight past Graham.
At me.
And I saw something in his face that I had never seen before.
Not anger.
Horror.
He dropped to one knee beside me.
“Audrey.”
“Dad, I can't walk.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know, sweetheart.”
His hand hovered near my shoulder.
“I'm not going to move you.”
Behind him, Graham raised his voice.
“Your daughter assaulted my security personnel. I suggest you gentlemen leave before I call the police.”
Rafe slowly turned.
“Please do.”
Graham started to answer.
Then his eyes moved to Rafe's forearm.
A faded compass tattoo.
He looked at Patrick.
The same tattoo.
Isaac.
Leonard.
Finally, my father.
Five identical markings.
Graham's face lost its color.
“You were... Special Forces?”
Nobody answered.
Graham swallowed.
“Look, gentlemen, there's clearly been a misunderstanding.”
My father stood.
“No misunderstanding. My daughter is on the ground.”
Graham took a step backward.
Then Colby spoke from behind him.
“Sir, there's something you should know.”
Graham spun around.
“Shut your mouth.”
But Colby was looking at my father.
May you like
And the next thing he said changed everything.
“Mr. Bellamy, the cameras aren't what he should be worried about. It's the recording of the order he gave us.”...
