Chapter 6 - The Exit Strategy
The heavy oak doors of the Greenfield Country Club swung shut behind us, cutting off the suffocating swell of gasps, whispers, and my father’s ragged breathing.
The crisp night air hit my face like a cool towel, washing away the stagnant scent of expensive wine and forced conformity. Clare walked beside me, her Vera Wang train gathered safely over her arm, her chest heaving with a mixture of nervous adrenaline and profound, liberating relief.
As we descended the grand stone steps toward the paved driveway where two military transport sedans idled under the yellow sodium streetlamps, David—now officially my new brother-in-law—came jogging out through the side exit, shedding his suit jacket.
"Clare! Wait up!" David called out, his breath pluming in the cool air. He stopped a few feet from us, looking between his glowing bride and the four crisp Air Force dress uniforms standing at attention. He offered me a hesitant, respectful nod. "General. That... that was quite an entrance."
"Thank you, David," I said, offering a warm, genuine smile that softened the hard lines of my military bearing. "Thank you for taking care of my sister."
David reached out and took Clare’s hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "I'd walk through a minefield for her. You know that."
"He really would, Ev," Clare said, her eyes shining with tears as she leaned her head against David's shoulder. "He stood right up to Dad at the rehearsal dinner when Dad tried to cut my phone line."
I felt a sudden, sharp spike of protectiveness. "Gerald tried to isolate you too?"
"He wanted total control over the guest list, the seating chart, everything," David explained, his jaw tightening. "If you hadn't walked through those doors tonight, Clare was going to pack a bag and leave before the first dance."
"Well," I said, turning my gaze back toward the country club entrance where a few stunned guests were peering anxiously through the frosted glass windows. "The flight is booked, the dust has settled, and your father's leverage just evaporated. But we aren't done yet."
Clare looked up, her brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
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Before I could answer, my secure satellite phone buzzed sharply inside my jacket pocket. I pulled it out, glanced at the encrypted caller ID, and felt the cold, hard instincts of a command officer lock into place.
It wasn't a routine dispatch. It was an urgent alert from the Pentagon's logistics command, flagging an immediate security breach tied directly to Gerald Ulette's insurance firm.
