Chapter 5 - Cracks in the Dynasty
The word 'fraud' detonated in the hospital room like an artillery shell.
Gregory Ferguson froze. For all his smug, high-society arrogance, Gregory was a corporate attorney who understood one fundamental truth: domestic abuse could sometimes be settled with quiet non-disclosure agreements, but defrauding the Department of Defense meant federal penitentiaries, seized bank accounts, and absolute disbarment.
Without a second thought, Gregory took two deliberate steps away from his younger brother.
"I had nothing to do with that," Gregory said quickly, holding his hands up toward Special Agent Vance and Sergeant Daniels. "I don't manage Nicholas's logistics division. I am an independent partner at Ferguson & Vance. Any financial impropriety committed by Nicholas Ferguson is entirely his own doing."
Nicholas looked at his older brother in sheer disbelief, his face twisting with profound betrayal. "Gregory? What are you saying? You set up those Cayman holding companies! You drafted the shell contracts!"
"Shut up, Nicholas!" Gregory snapped viciously, his face pale with panic. "Do not implicate me in your criminal negligence! You're on your own!"
"Gregory! Nicholas! Stop this right now!" Patricia shrieked, losing every shred of her aristocratic composure. Her expensive makeup was smudged with cold sweat, her manicured hands trembling violently as she lunged toward Sergeant Daniels. "Do you know who we are? You cannot listen to this lying little gold-digger! She married my son for our money, and now she's trying to ruin us! I demand to speak to the governor! I demand to speak to your superiors!"
"Ma'am, step back," Sergeant Daniels warned, his voice low and dangerous. "If you touch an officer or an evidence technician again, I will personally charge you with felony obstruction of justice and assault on a peace officer."
At that moment, the door to the adjoining treatment room swung open, and Dr. Evans, the chief trauma physician on duty, walked in holding a clipboard of digital medical records. His expression was grim, his eyes burning with clinical disgust as he looked at the Ferguson family.
"Sergeant Daniels, Colonel Gardner," Dr. Evans said, stepping between the armed guards. "I've just concluded the preliminary forensic trauma assessment for Mrs. Ferguson."
I stepped beside my daughter, resting a comforting hand on her trembling shoulder. "Put it on the official record, Doctor."
"Patient exhibits severe blunt force trauma consistent with aggressive manual assault," Dr. Evans read aloud, his voice echoing through the quiet observation wing. "Two fractured ribs on the left thoracic cage. A grade-two concussion resulting from direct impact to the cranium. Deep contusions and subcutaneous hemorrhaging along both wrists and forearms, entirely consistent with defensive posturing and unlawful physical restraint. Her lip required four internal sutures."
Dr. Evans looked up from his chart, his gaze pinning Nicholas to the wall.
"These injuries did not occur from a fall down a staircase, Mr. Ferguson," Dr. Evans said flatly. "In my fifteen years as an ER trauma specialist, these are textbook battered-woman injuries. There are distinct bruising patterns matching the signet ring on your right hand."
Nicholas looked down at his right hand. The heavy gold family crest ring seemed to burn against his skin. He instinctively tried to slide his hand into his pocket, but Captain Miller stepped forward and caught him firmly by the wrist.
"Do not conceal potential evidence, sir," Miller commanded.
"Mom... do something!" Nicholas cried out, his voice cracking into high-pitched panic. "Don't let them take me! Gregory, call the firm! Call anyone!"
Patricia looked around wildly, but the hallway was lined with stone-faced soldiers and armed CMPD officers. The nurses and doctors who had once catered to the Fergusons' philanthropic donations were now watching them with silent, burning contempt. Phones were raised in the distance; visitors and hospital staff were filming every single second of their public humiliation.
"You've destroyed us," Patricia whispered, her venomous glare locking onto me. "You think you've won, Gardner? We will hire the most ruthless legal team in the country. We will drag Abigail through every tabloid, every deposition, every courtroom until she has nothing left to live for!"
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I looked at the woman who had terrorized my daughter, and for the first time that night, I smiled. It was the cold, unyielding smile of a commander who had already calculated the enemy's total surrender.
"You won't have the money to pay for a public defender, Patricia," I whispered. "Because as of twenty minutes ago, the Judge Advocate General's Corps and the Department of Justice initiated an emergency freeze on every domestic and offshore asset linked to Ferguson Logistics."
