Chapter 4 - The Public Mask
By 8:00 AM the following morning, the storm hit the local news.
Brandon had spent the night in a cheap motel near the airport, bleeding from his broken nose, frantically trying to access his bank accounts only to find every credit card declined and every line of credit frozen by court order.
When he drove his mid-sized sedan back to our house at 9:00 AM to retrieve his passport and clothes, he found two Dallas County Sheriff deputies standing on the porch alongside David Vance.
The house was cordoned off with yellow crime-scene tape.
"What the hell is this?!" Brandon screamed, jumping out of his car, his nose bandaged with white tape, his eyes bloodshot. "This is my property! I live here!"
Deputy Miller—a broad, stern officer—stepped down from the porch, holding a thick stack of legal documents.
"Brandon Miller?" the deputy asked flatly.
"Yes! I am Brandon Miller! I want these people off my lawn!"
"Brandon Miller, you are hereby served with an emergency protective order issued by the 219th Judicial District Court," the deputy read, handing him the papers. "You are ordered to remain at least one thousand feet away from Rachel Montgomery-Miller, her child, and the Montgomery Estate. You are forbidden from contacting her by phone, email, or third party."
"She’s my wife!" Brandon roared, his face turning red, the vein in his forehead bulging. "She’s six months pregnant with my kid! She tripped over a toy last night! I didn't touch her!"
David Vance stepped forward from the porch, his tall, massive frame completely blocking the doorway. He looked down at Brandon with cold, professional disgust.
"Mr. Miller," David spoke softly, his British accent smooth as silk. "The forensic team has already processed the living room. They recovered two teeth fragments from the floorboards, matching blood samples from the rug, and high-definition audio recordings from the smart home security hub your wife installed last year."
Brandon’s face turned from red to an ash-grey pale. "Security hub...?"
"You forgot that the system backs up to the Montgomery cloud server every six hours, didn't you?" David smiled—a terrifying, sharp movement of his lips. "The District Attorney’s office has already reviewed the footage. The warrant for your arrest for felony aggravated assault on a pregnant family member was signed twenty minutes ago."
Before Brandon could turn around and run toward his car, two unmarked police cruisers pulled into the driveway behind him, their blue lights flashing silently.
Four plainclothes detectives stepped out, their badges displayed on their belts.
"Brandon Miller," the lead detective called out, drawing his handcuffs. "Put your hands behind your back."
"This is a mistake!" Brandon shrieked as the cold steel clicked around his wrists. "Her father is framing me! He's a billionaire! He bought the judges! Rachel, tell them! RACHEL!"
His screams echoed down the quiet suburban street as he was shoved into the back of the police cruiser.
In the back seat of a black SUV parked two blocks away, I sat watching the scene through tinted windows.
I wore dark sunglasses over my bruised cheek, a cream cashmere scarf covering my jaw wrap. Beside me, my father sat with his arms crossed, watching his former son-in-law get hauled away like trash.
"It's a start," I whispered, my voice slurred through my teeth.
May you like
"It is only the first move, Rachel," my father said, turning his head to look at me. "Marcus Vreede will post his bail within two hours. Vreede cannot afford to let Brandon talk to federal prosecutors."
"Then let him post bail," I said, my fingers tightening around the leather strap of my purse. "Because the moment Brandon walks out of that jail, he's going to lead us straight to Vreede."
