Chapter 10 - The Weight of the Crown
The impact caught Gavin completely off guard. He let out a sharp gasp of air as we both crashed hard onto the sun-baked dirt of the border access road.
The heavy titanium hard drive slipped from his fingers, bouncing twice against the gravel before skidding to a stop right near Evelyn’s polished leather shoe.
Evelyn casually reached down, scooped up the drive, and slipped it into her coat pocket, giving me an approving, razor-sharp nod.
The two federal officers closed in instantly, hauling Gavin up from the dirt by his arms and slapping heavy steel handcuffs onto his wrists with a sharp, metallic click.
“Gavin Miller, you are under arrest for interstate theft of proprietary assets, wire fraud, and conspiracy,” an officer barked, shoving him roughly toward the back of the federal transport SUV.
Gavin screamed curses as the heavy door slammed shut, cutting off his voice entirely. The desert fell back into a heavy, profound silence, broken only by the idle hum of the vehicle engines and the rustle of the dry wind through the mesquite brush.
I stood up, brushing the dirt from the knees of my pantsuit, my breathing only slightly elevated.
Evelyn walked over, holding out the titanium hard drive. She pressed it gently into my palm. “Securely encrypted, completely intact, and legally verified under court receivership. Congratulations, Mrs. Miller. You officially own one hundred percent of the operational control now that Walter has surrendered his voting shares.”
I looked down at the small metal drive resting in my hand. Sixteen years of sacrifice, of being treated as an outsider, of building an empire only to watch them try to hand it to a fabricated heir—it all boiled down to this single, heavy piece of technology.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out.
It was a text from Gaby: “Mom, we ordered three large pepperoni pizzas. Hurry home, or Aunt Elena is going to eat the last slice!”
A genuine, radiant smile broke across my face—the first real, unburdened smile I had worn in years.
“Thank you, Evelyn,” I said, slipping the drive safely into my briefcase. “Tell your D.C. division the audit is officially closed.”
“Not quite yet,” Evelyn said with a faint, knowing smirk, pointing back toward the highway where a pair of black federal SUVs were escorting a prisoner transport van away. “You still have to figure out what you’re going to do with the factory rename.”
May you like
I looked out toward the horizon where the sun was beginning its descent, painting the California sky in brilliant shades of gold and amber.
“Oh, that’s easy,” I said, turning back toward Marcus’s car. “We’re calling it Four Daughters Manufacturing.”
