Chapter 4 - Justice in Motion
While the police loaded a shouting, panicked Brandon into the back of a squad car, Arthur handed Judith a formal notice.
“Mrs. Vale,” Arthur said, his tone as sharp as a razor. “Vance Global Enterprises has officially frozen all credit facilities extended to Vale Residential Holdings pending a full forensic audit. Furthermore, you have sixty minutes to collect your personal belongings from this house under the supervision of Vance Security. Anything left after one hour will be seized as corporate property.”
Judith looked at the paper in her shaking hands, then up at me, her composure totally ruined. Tears of anger and terror ruined her makeup.
“Martin... please,” she pleaded, her voice dropping to a desperate whisper. “We can talk about this! Brandon made a terrible mistake, but he’s young! Don't ruin our family over a disagreement!”
“A disagreement?” I looked at her with pure ice in my eyes. “Your son beat my daughter unconscious and locked her in a dark shed in the freezing rain. You stood on that porch, drank your wine, and covered for him. You aren't a family, Judith. You're a disease. And I am curing my daughter of you.”
I turned my back on her, refusing to listen to another word, and climbed into the passenger seat of Marcus’s Escalade. “Take me to the hospital.”
The drive to Saint Jude’s Memorial Hospital was quiet. Outside, the rain began to lighten, turning into a soft, steady drizzle as the first hints of dawn painted the eastern sky in shades of deep bruised purple and grey.
When I arrived at the trauma unit, the lead physician met me in the private hallway.
“Mr. Vance,” Dr. Aris said, pulling off his surgical mask. “Emily is stabilized. She has a severe concussion, a fractured ulna in her left arm, and extensive soft-tissue bruising, particularly around her neck. But she is going to recover. Physically, at least.”
“Can I see her?”
“She’s awake. She’s been asking for you.”
I walked into the quiet room. The soft, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor filled the air. Emily lay in the hospital bed, her left arm encased in a pristine white cast, an IV line hooked into her right hand. When she saw me step through the door, tears spilled over her lashes.
“Dad...” she choked out.
I pulled a chair right up to the side of the bed, gently taking her right hand in both of mine, being careful not to touch her bruises. “I’m here, Emily. I’m right here.”
“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, shaking her head. “I tried to make it work... I thought he would change... I was so ashamed to tell you...”
“Shh,” I whispered, leaning down to press my cheek against her forehead. “Listen to me, Emily. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing. You didn't cause this, and you couldn't have stopped it. The only thing that matters now is that you are alive, and you are free.”
“What’s going to happen to Brandon?”
“Brandon is in a jail cell,” I said, my voice quiet and absolute. “And he is never going to set foot near you again. Neither is his mother. Their company is over. Their reputation is over. I am taking everything they have.”
She looked at me, seeing the quiet, unyielding authority in my eyes—the side of her father she hadn't seen since she was a little girl. She let out a long, shuddering breath, her shoulders relaxing for the first time in years.
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“Thank you, Dad,” she whispered, her eyes drifting shut as the pain medication took hold again.
“Always, baby,” I murmured. “Always.”
