Chapter 5 - Enter the Aristocrats
|
Standing in the doorway of the observation room were the architects of my daughter’s nightmare.
Nicholas Ferguson, Abigail's husband, stood in the center. He was wearing a custom-tailored charcoal suit that likely cost more than a soldier's annual salary. His hair was perfectly styled, not a single strand out of place. To his left stood his mother, Patricia, draped in a cashmere shawl, her ears glittering with heavy diamond studs. On Nicholas’s right was his older brother, Gregory, casually checking his luxury Rolex watch as if he were bored waiting for a valet.
They were the picture of absolute, unbothered privilege. Their faces were overflowing with wealth, arrogance, and a sickening amount of contempt.
Patricia stepped slightly forward, her designer heels clicking against the linoleum. She offered me a smile that was cold enough to chill the entire room.
"Ah, Colonel Gardner," Patricia said smoothly, her tone patronizing. "I see you made it. There was really no need for you to rush down here in a panic. Your daughter simply had a minor emotional breakdown."
I stared at her, my jaw locked so tight my teeth ached. I looked down at Abigail's battered face, then back at Patricia’s pristine, unbothered expression.
"An emotional breakdown?" I repeated, my voice dropping to a dangerous, deadly octave.
"She fell," Nicholas chimed in, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the doorframe. "She was acting hysterical, running around the property, and she tripped on the stone steps near the gardens. No one touched her. She’s always been overly sensitive."
Abigail let out a terrified whimper and tightened her grip on my sleeve.
"No, Mom," Abigail whispered, her voice shaking violently. "They locked me inside the guest house. Nicholas took my phone away so I couldn't call you. They told me if I ever tried to leave him, they would completely destroy my reputation."
Nicholas let out a heavy sigh, looking at his brother.
Gregory chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "Some women marry into families they are simply never prepared for. The pressure gets to them. They start hallucinating abuse to get attention."
They were standing in a hospital room, looking at a woman who had clearly been beaten and imprisoned, and they were treating it like an inconvenient social faux pas. They honestly believed their money and their name made them invisible to consequence.
May you like
Without releasing my daughter’s hand, I slowly rose to my feet. I stood at my full height, squaring my shoulders, letting the intimidating weight of my uniform speak before I did.
The temperature in the room plummeted.
