Chapter 126
[ 524 words ]
Chapter 126:
The heavy oak door of the second-floor study clicked shut. Finch the butler stood perfectly still, his hands clasped behind his back, sealing the room off from the chaotic aftermath of the gala below. The only sound in the room was the sharp crackle of the logs burning in the massive stone fireplace.
General Augustus Romero sat behind his sprawling mahogany desk. The high back of his leather chair swallowed his frame. He sat entirely in the shadows, his face illuminated only by the rhythmic, glowing cherry of his Cuban cigar.
Finch waited in absolute silence. He knew better than to speak before the General.
A full minute passed. The silence grew heavy and suffocating.
“That woman,” the General finally rasped, refusing to even speak Caroline’s name. “There is something deeply wrong with her eyes. It makes my skin crawl.”
Finch bowed his head a fraction of an inch. “She displayed a level of tactical composure that is entirely inconsistent with her documented socioeconomic background, sir.”
The General let out a dark, grating chuckle.
“Exactly,” the General said, pulling the cigar from his lips. “A civilian nurse from a middle-class suburb should have been weeping when Harper attacked her. She should have been shaking when I threatened her life. She did neither. She stood there like a piece of polished granite.”
The General slammed his fist down on the desk. The heavy thud rattled the crystal inkwell.
“She came prepared,” the General snarled. “That lie about military channels… it was too perfect. Too clean. Jarrod is reckless, but he is not that strategically subtle in his personal life. That was her idea.”
Finch nodded slowly. “Her responses were highly calculated, sir.”
𝘍𝗼𝗅lо𝘄 𝘶ѕ oո 𝗴al𝗻𝗼v𝗲𝘭𝘀.𝗰o𝘮
The General pushed himself up from the chair. He grabbed his cane and limped heavily toward the massive window. He looked down at the dark courtyard where Jarrod’s armored SUV had just departed.
“She is either a world-class grifter who has spent years studying my grandson,” the General said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper, “or she is a planted asset working for an entity we do not yet see.”
He turned around. The firelight caught the absolute ruthlessness in his eyes.
“I will not allow an unknown variable to infect my bloodline,” the General commanded. “Finch. I want a complete, microscopic background excavation on Caroline Thompson. I want to know everything from the minute she took her first breath.”
“Understood, sir,” Finch replied smoothly. “What parameters?”
“Every single parameter,” the General barked. “Medical records. Financial history. Every school she attended. Every person she has dated. I want to know if she has a parking ticket from ten years ago. I specifically want a minute-by-minute timeline of the last ninety days. I need to know exactly how she intercepted Jarrod.”
Finch pulled a small leather notebook from his breast pocket and clicked a pen.
“Shall I utilize the family’s standard intelligence channels at the Pentagon, sir?” Finch asked.
“Absolutely not,” the General snapped. “Jarrod’s lie has blocked that path. If he catches a whiff of an official military inquiry into his wife, he will burn this estate to the ground. There can be zero digital footprint linking this back to me.”
The General stepped closer to the fire.
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