Chapter 11
Following the explosive confrontation detailed in katherine-violently-shoved-five-year-old-clara-out-of-her-chair-sending-the-toddler-crashing-to-the-floor-as-water-spilled-everywhere-viciously-shrieking-that-the-filthy-parasite-was-dirtying-her-seat-chapters.txt, Jocelyn stepped deliberately into the freezing, blinding glow of the Escalade’s headlights, leaving the heavily armored SUV where Clara slept securely in her five-point harness. The man in the tailored dark overcoat took a slow, methodical drag from his cigarette, the cherry flaring bright red against the pitch-black autumn night. "Who are you?" Jocelyn demanded, her voice carrying the exact same lethal authority that had just stripped her father of his ninety-million-dollar empire and left him entirely broken. "A facilitator," the man replied, his voice smooth, cultured, and utterly devoid of standard human inflection. "Your father, Richard, believed he successfully manipulated the Pentagon to send your husband to Helmand Province to protect your inheritance. Richard was a fool playing with paper. We actually wanted David in Helmand. We simply let Richard pay for the administrative logistics." "My husband died in a roadside bombing," Jocelyn said, her fists clenching so tightly that her manicured nails dug sharp half-moons into her own palms. "I received the folded flag. I buried an empty casket." "You buried sand," the man corrected with a dismissive exhale of smoke. "David was successfully extracted before the blast. He’s been working for us for the past five years. Off the books. Highly classified." "If you expect me to believe a ghost story to protect my sister’s interests, you picked the wrong night," Jocelyn stated, stepping closer to the towering figure without a trace of fear. The man reached smoothly into his coat. Jocelyn didn't flinch. He withdrew a tarnished silver dog tag and casually tossed it onto the driveway gravel. It landed exactly at the toe of her flats with a sharp metallic clink. Jocelyn looked down. She didn't need to pick it up to read the serial number. It was David’s. "What do you want?" Jocelyn asked, her blood suddenly running ice-cold. "Katherine was supposed to reliably deliver the Lumina neuro-drug to our supply lines," the man said, crushing his cigarette beneath his polished leather heel. "Now she’s facing federal racketeering charges. You own Lumina now. We expect the delivery to continue uninterrupted." "And if I refuse your generous offer?" "Then the next flag you receive won't be folded," he whispered, sliding back into the vehicle.
