Chapter 6 - The Federal Intrusion
The shouts echoed up the grand staircase, bouncing off the vaulted ceilings and shattering the tense silence of the second-floor corridor.
“Federal Marshals! Nobody move!”
Sabina flinched violently at the sound, her eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated panic. The carefully constructed armor of cool sophistication she had worn for months dissolved into dust. Without a word, she spun on her heel and sprinted down the hallway toward the master suite, her heels clicking frantically against the hardwood.
“Marcus!” Chadworth barked, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip. “Cut off the west wing exit. Don't let her touch a phone.”
“On it, sir!” Marcus bolted down the opposite corridor, moving with the precision of a trained operative.
Chadworth didn’t chase her immediately. He turned back to the nursery door where Lorelai and Gemma stood hand-in-hand, their wide eyes reflecting the unfolding nightmare. He knelt down, his expression softening as much as it could amidst the adrenaline pounding in his veins.
“Stay inside with the door locked, girls,” Chadworth said firmly, his hands resting on their shoulders. “Do not open it for anyone except Marcus or Rosamund. Do you understand?”
“Daddy, what’s happening?” Lorelai whispered, her voice trembling.
“Everything is going to be alright,” he promised, offering a reassuring squeeze before rising to his feet.
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs, and two men in tactical vests bearing federal insignia crested the landing, their hands resting near their holstered sidearms. They scanned the hallway, their eyes locking onto Chadworth.
“Mr. Chadworth Prescott?” the lead marshal demanded, flashing a badge.
“I’m Prescott,” Chadworth replied, stepping out of the nursery doorway and pulling the door shut behind him. “You’re right on time. Though I expected my security team to handle the service warrants first.”
The marshal frowned, lowering his hand slightly as he took in the scene. “Sir, we received an anonymous priority override alert routed through a federal financial crimes task force less than twenty minutes ago. A comprehensive asset-freeze order was triggered on this entire estate under suspicion of corporate espionage, identity fraud, and systemic embezzlement.”
Chadworth let out a grim, humorless laugh. “Not corporate espionage, Marshal. Domestic treason. And the architect of it is currently trying to flush the evidence down the master bathroom toilet.”
The marshal’s eyes sharpened. He motioned to his partner. “Secure the perimeter. Let’s move.”
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As the agents surged past him toward the master suite, Chadworth turned and followed closely behind. The trap Sabina had laid for him, the snare meant to strip him of his wealth and his children, had sprung inward. But as the sound of splintering wood echoed from the master bedroom down the hall, Chadworth knew the federal marshals were only scratching the surface of what was truly buried beneath his roof.
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