Mom, please come get me... My husband's family hurt me.

The heavy oak doors of the boardroom clicked shut behind the military police as they escorted a handcuffed, sobbing Ethan Prescott out of the building. The high-priced corporate lawyers sat paralyzed in their designer chairs, staring blankly at the polished mahogany table as if waiting for an earthquake to finish them off.

Margaret Prescott remained in her executive seat at the head of the table. Her silver hair, usually immaculate, was slightly askew. The multi-million-dollar empire she and her late husband had spent four decades building was dissolving in real time, washed away by federal indictments and the unyielding tide of military accountability.

"You haven't won," Margaret whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she stared straight ahead at the wall. "The courts move slowly, Colonel. We have teams of litigators who will tie this up for a decade."

Victoria didn't slow her pace as she walked toward the double doors. She paused just before the threshold, turning her head slightly over her shoulder.

"Courts might move slowly, Margaret," Victoria said softly, her voice carrying a chilling finality. "But federal asset seizure warrants execute in minutes. By noon, every corporate account, subsidiary holding, and overseas trust tied to Prescott Industries will be frozen by the Department of Justice. Enjoy the silence while you still have it."

With that, Victoria stepped out into the hallway, leaving the Prescott dynasty to burn in the ashes of its own arrogance.

Downstairs in the subterranean parking garage, the damp concrete air smelled of exhaust fumes and dust. The DCIS agent held open the door of a black government SUV. Victoria slid into the back seat, pulling out her secure military-encrypted tablet.

The screen immediately populated with encrypted messages from Fort Liberty. General Vance had already mobilized the base's legal defense branch to ensure Emily's protection was absolute and legally impenetrable.