tick-tick-tick-tick.
“The… the blue envelope…” Arthur gasped, his voice cracking into that thin, pathetic squeak:
“Daniel… Daniel swore to me that the conservatorship petition was granted! That you were unconscious in Courtroom 4B!”
“Daniel was blinded by his own suburban arrogance, Arthur,” Colonel Aaron Carter spoke from behind my shoulder:
“Daniel was too busy calculating his Swiss carried interest to notice that Clara had memorized every batch number on the packaging.”
Carter opened the unsealed federal indictment, turning the heavy bond vellum pages with a sharp, terrifying snap:
“Under Section Fourteen-B of the Bennett Admiralty Founding Indenture of Nineteen-Forty-Four…”
“The chief certifying surveyor who established the sovereign defense conduits of the Great Plains command sector… retains an un-divided, un-alienable fifty-one percent legal equity in the property in perpetuity.”
“Transferable to his surviving lineal heirs ab initio.”
Carter leaned forward, resting his fists on the granite table:
“Clara Bennett did not sign a conservatorship waiver, Arthur.”
