Chapter 4 - The Rat’s Escape"You can't do this!" Arthur lunged forward, grabbing the edge of the podium. His face was purple with rage and panic. "I built this company from the ground up! I supplied the fleet! You're destroying national security over a family feud!"
"This isn't a family feud, Mr. Vance," a new voice chimed in from the doorway.
Special Agent Vance Miller—no relation, despite the irony—walked into the ballroom flanked by four armed agents from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service (NCIS) and two federal marshals.
"This is a federal indictment," Agent Miller announced, flashing his badge. "Arthur Vance, you are under arrest for conspiracy, wire fraud, falsification of military defense equipment, and criminal negligence resulting in bodily harm."
The murmurs erupted into outright chaos. Flashbulbs from hidden cameras—smuggled in by ambitious journalists—started popping in the darkness near the back doors.
Arthur’s eyes darted toward the private service elevator behind the stage. It was his emergency escape route, built specifically for high-profile exits during the gala. He spun around, hitching up his tuxedo jacket, and sprinted toward the backstage curtain like a panicked animal.
"Stop him!" Beatrice screamed, her loyalty evaporating the second handcuffs were mentioned.
Audrey, who had just regained consciousness on the floor, watched in horror as her father scrambled behind the heavy velvet drapes.
Before the NCIS agents could even take two steps, I moved.
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Years of tactical training, hand-to-hand combat drills on carrier decks, and the sheer muscle memory of a survivor kicked in. I slipped out of my wool blazer, leaving it draped over a chair, and crossed the stage in three long strides.
I vaulted over the mahogany soundboard, ripped the velvet curtain aside, and lunged into the backstage corridor just as Arthur slammed the heavy steel door of the service elevator and hit the basement button.
