Chapter 6 - The Voice from the Mountain
The metallic crackle of the villa's exterior public address system echoed sharply across the crisp, predawn mountain air.
My voice, amplified and chillingly calm, rolled down from the eaves and bounced off the dense cluster of pine trees surrounding the property. It caught my father mid-stride as he stood up from the staircase, and it froze David with his hands halfway inside the trunk of the SUV.
"You have sixty seconds to step outside the gates," my voice commanded from the speakers, cutting straight through the early morning fog. "After that, the automated property reclamation protocol executes automatically, and every vehicle, electronic account, and asset linked to your names will be locked, towed, or frozen under federal jurisdiction."
Inside the foyer, Susan let out a sharp, hysterical shriek.
"She's insane!" Susan cried, grabbing my father's jacket sleeve and shaking him violently. "Arthur, do something! Call her back! We can't walk out of here like common criminals with the sheriff watching!"
Deputy Miller, standing on the porch next to the Placer County patrol cruiser, clicked on his high-powered flashlight and directed the beam straight through the glass sidelight. He tapped his badge against the doorframe, his patience wearing dangerously thin.
"Mr. Vance," Miller's voice boomed through the door. "You heard the Commander. You've got one minute to clear the property before I'm legally obligated to assist with the execution of the trespass order and impound every unauthorized vehicle in this driveway."
Arthur’s face turned an ugly, mottled shade of purple. He stared up at the security camera mounted above the entryway, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The absolute authority he thought he wielded had vanished into thin air, leaving behind only the cold, sharp teeth of reality.
"Dad, move!" Olivia snapped, shoving past him with tears of absolute rage streaming down her face. She grabbed her designer handbag off the entry table and wrenched the front door open, glaring hatefully at Deputy Miller before storming down the steps.
David followed her sheepishly, carrying the last heavy suitcase, while Susan and my father trailed behind like defeated ghosts.
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From three hundred miles away in San Diego, I watched every second of their humiliated exit through the secondary tactical camera feed, my expression remaining completely unchanged.
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