Chapter 4 - THE FEDS AT THE CEMETERYBefore Richard’s hands could reach my throat, two heavy-set federal marshals in tactical gear intercepted him, tackling him face-first into the freezing slush of the cemetery path.
"Richard Vale, you are under arrest for corporate fraud, interstate wire fraud, and grand larceny," the lead marshal commanded, snapping heavy steel handcuffs around his wrists.
"Get off me! Do you know who I am?!" Richard thrashed wildly, spitting mud and snow, his expensive black suit completely destroyed. "I own half of this city! This is a setup!"
"You own a jail cell, uncle," I looked down at him, my voice completely devoid of pity. "You thought because I lost a leg in a car accident three weeks ago, I was helpless. You thought you could stomp me into the dirt and inherit an empire."
I tapped the rubber tip of my crutch against the ground right beside his ear.
"You forgot that a true heir doesn't need two legs to walk all over a thief."
The marshals yanked Richard to his feet, hauling him toward a waiting black van while he screamed obscenities that echoed off the ancient marble headstones.
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Grant stood frozen, staring after his father in absolute horror. He looked at me, his lips trembling. "Ethan... please. I didn't know about the fraud. I'm family—"
"You stood right beside him while he put his boot on my amputation stump, Grant," I interrupted coldly. "Pack your bags. You have forty-eight hours to clear out of the family estate."
