Chapter 4 - The Tables TurnAva stepped into the cold, sterile holding room, the rubber heels of her service shoes clicking sharply against the concrete floor. She didn't flinch as she met Richard’s wide, panicked eyes. The ghost that had haunted her nightmares for a decade had finally been reduced to a pathetic, cornered animal.
“Fragile?” Ava asked softly, her voice echoing off the bare walls. She stepped closer to the table, resting her uninjured hand on the cold stainless steel. “Is that what you told yourself, Richard? That I would cower on the floor like I did when I was fifteen?”
Richard swallowed hard, his bravado entirely vanished. “Ava... honey. Let’s be reasonable. Families fight. Your mother—your mother is worried sick about you. We can drop all of this. You call your commanders off, and I’ll pretend this whole misunderstanding never happened.”
“My mother,” Ava said, her voice cutting through the air like a razor, “has spent the last three years texting me in secret, asking if you’ve calmed down yet, telling me to ‘keep the peace’ so she doesn't have to deal with your explosive temper. But she isn't here right now, is she, Richard? It’s just you and me.”
Special Agent Brody watched the exchange in silence, quietly recording the audio and video feed for the official federal dossier.
“You broke into my home,” Ava continued, stepping so close she could smell the stale whiskey still clinging to his collar. “You smashed my door, you twisted my arm until it popped, and you stood over me while I was bleeding on the tile, lecturing me about respect.”
“I was angry!” Richard blurted out, panic cracking his voice. “You ignored my calls! You changed your number! You cut us off!”
“I cut you off,” Ava corrected sharply. “Because the moment I put an ocean and a naval uniform between us, I realized something vital: you were never a father. You were a coward who used a closed door and a belt to feel powerful.”
Richard’s eyes flashed with a sudden, desperate spark of malice. He leaned forward, ignoring the zip-ties binding his wrists. “You think the Navy is going to save you forever? What happens when you take off that uniform? What happens when you walk out of these gates? I have friends in high places, Ava. People who can ruin your career with a single phone call. You’ll never work in defense intelligence again.”
Ava didn't flinch. Instead, a cold, confident smile spread across her face.
“Friends in high places?” Ava tilted her head, turning slightly toward the door. “You mean like the ones currently auditing your corporate accounts in Richmond?”
Richard’s blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”
From the doorway, Master Chief Vance stepped into the room, holding a secure tablet displaying a live financial feed.
“Just got a secure update from NCIS financial crimes division, Lieutenant,” Vance reported crisply, his eyes fixed on Richard. “Turns out Mr. Lawson’s successful real estate firm in Richmond wasn't quite as legitimate as he claimed. Embezzlement of client trust funds, tax evasion across three state lines, and fraudulent shell companies designed to hide millions in offshore accounts.”
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Vance turned the screen toward Richard. The numbers scrolling past represented the complete, total collapse of everything Richard Lawson had built his arrogant life upon.
“We didn't just investigate your break-in tonight, Richard,” Ava whispered softly, leaning in close to his ear. “We pulled the string on your entire miserable empire. Welcome to the end of your life.”
