“No retired widow, no naval admiral, and no disobedient niece have the statutory authority to question an executive order countersigned by this bench!”
Arthur Vance lunged across the granite table, his manicured hands hooked into claws aimed directly at my throat:
“I will have the United States Marshals Service purged!”
“I will have the Department of Defense sealed under Title Fifty Executive Secrecy!”
“And as for your little cottage in North Carolina, Eleanor…?”
Arthur bared his teeth in an ugly, dying sneer:
“…I will have the federal court unseal a warrant that razes your house to the bedrock before the morning recess!”
CHAPTER 5: THE MASTER REVERSAL: THE ARCHITECT’S FINAL COLLAPSE
I did not flinch.
Admiral Mercer did not step back.
General Grant did not move an inch.
Barnaby did not growl.
A slow, radiant, terrifying smile broke across Eleanor Mercer-Vance’s face—a smile that held zero fear, zero debts, zero lies, and zero graves.
