Chapter 4: The Ambush
Ethan Prescott hated losing control.
By noon, the financial fallout from the Apex deal was already bleeding into their stock prices. Driven by a volatile mix of rage and entitlement, Ethan decided to handle things his way. He ignored his mother's orders to stay put and drove his slate-gray Porsche Panamera straight to Fayetteville, pulling up to my registered address—a modest, single-story brick house on a quiet suburban street.
He didn't come alone.
Stepping out of the passenger side was Deputy Chief Collins of the local PD, a man whose gambling debts had conveniently vanished thanks to the Prescott family trust.
Ethan marched up the walkway and pounded his fist against my front door.
"Emily! Open this door right now!" he shouted.
When there was no answer, Collins stepped forward, unlatching the holster of his service weapon. "I have authorization for a wellness check, Mr. Prescott. Stand back. I'll breach."
Before Collins could kick the door, it swung open effortlessly.
I stood in the doorway. I wasn't wearing my uniform anymore. I wore tactical cargo pants, a black t-shirt, and combat boots. I leaned against the doorframe, holding a mug of coffee, looking at them as if they were two stray dogs that had wandered onto my lawn.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" I asked calmly.
Ethan tried to push past me. "Where is my wife?"
I didn't move an inch. I just shifted my weight, dropping my shoulder, and when Ethan collided with me, it was like he hit a concrete wall. He stumbled backward, cursing.
"Deputy Chief Collins," I said, ignoring Ethan completely. "You are outside your jurisdiction. And unless you have a federal warrant signed by a judge who isn't currently under investigation by the FBI for wire fraud, I suggest you step off my porch."
Collins sneered. "I don't need a warrant for a wellness check, lady. This man’s wife is missing."
"She’s not missing," I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. "She’s safe from her abuser."
"I'm going to ruin you," Ethan spat, his face red with fury. "You think you can play games with my family's money? I'll have you court-martialed. I'll have Emily declared legally incompetent and committed to a psych ward! I own her!"
"You own nothing," I said, my voice dropping an octave.
I pulled a small, black remote from my pocket and pressed a button. Instantly, a high-pitched electronic whine filled the air.
Ethan and Collins looked around, confused.
"What is that?" Ethan demanded.
"That," I explained coldly, "is a military-grade signal jammer. As of five seconds ago, neither of your cell phones has a signal. The dashcam in your cruiser is dead, Deputy. The body cam on your chest is fried."
Collins instinctively reached for his radio. Dead air. Panic flared in the corrupt cop's eyes.
"Now," I stepped off the porch, closing the distance between Ethan and me in a heartbeat. I grabbed him by the lapels of his expensive Italian suit and slammed him hard against the brick siding of my house.
He gasped, all the air leaving his lungs.
Collins reached for his gun, but before his fingers even grazed the grip, a tiny red laser dot appeared dead center on his chest.
Collins froze, his eyes bugging out in terror as he looked down at his chest, then up at the tree line across the street. He slowly raised his hands.
"Smart man," I whispered to Collins without looking at him.
I leaned in close to Ethan's ear. He was trembling. The arrogant boy from the hospital was gone, replaced by a terrified child.
"Listen to me very carefully, Ethan," I said, my voice like crushed glass. "If you ever come near my daughter again, if you ever say her name, if you even think about her, I will not take you to court. I will take you apart. I will systematically destroy your family's empire, and when you have absolutely nothing left, I will come for you. Do we have an understanding?"
Ethan swallowed hard, nodding frantically.
I released him, and he collapsed onto the grass, gasping for air.
May you like
"Get off my property," I commanded.
They scrambled back to the Porsche, the tires screeching as they sped out of the neighborhood. I watched them go, taking another slow sip of my coffee. The war was fully engaged.
