Chapter 13 - Ambush in the County Seat
The following morning, the red brick facade of the Campbell County Municipal Courthouse looked deceptively serene under the pale autumn sun. But as soon as Nathan pulled the dusty Ford pickup into the public parking lot, I knew the battle had already leaked into the streets.
A cluster of local television news vans sat idling near the courthouse steps. Two private security guards in black tactical gear were stationed near the entrance—an unprecedented sight for a rural Virginia clerk's office.
"Julian made a press release," Nathan said, glancing at the crowd through the windshield. "Look at the banner."
Tied between two marble pillars was an enormous vinyl sign: *JOBS FOR VIRGINIA: THE PIEDMONT INFRASTRUCTURE CORRIDOR.* Surrounding the steps were a dozen men wearing yellow hardhats and high-visibility vests—paid demonstrators brought in from Richmond to manufacture public support.
Standing at the top of the steps, looking relaxed and regal in a bespoke navy suit, was my younger brother, Julian.
At thirty years old, Julian had never worked a day of hard labor in his life. Every business venture he had ever led had been financed by our father's wealth or bailouts from Victoria's political network. When he saw me step out of the truck, his smile curled into the smug, contemptuous smirk that had haunted my childhood.
"Hold your head up, Commander," Nathan whispered, stepping to my side. He had dressed in a clean, pressed dark suit, looking every bit the hardened veteran who could dismantle a squad with his bare hands. Knox was sitting quietly in the back cab of the truck, his window cracked, watchful and alert.
As we approached the steps, the news cameras swung in our direction. Julian raised a hand, gesturing to the reporters.
"There she is!" Julian’s voice echoed across the courtyard, loud enough to cut through the hum of idling diesel engines. "My sister, Evelyn. The decorated veteran who claims to love this country, but is single-handedly holding up three hundred high-paying union jobs and millions of dollars in clean energy development just out of bitter spite for her own family!"
A reporter shoved a microphone toward my face. "Commander Mercer, is it true you’re refusing an eight-hundred-thousand-dollar settlement that could fund the regional hospital expansion?"
"Excuse us," Nathan said firmly, his shoulder subtly clearing a path through the media cluster, his gaze fixed straight ahead.
Julian stepped directly into my path at the double mahogany doors of the clerk's office. His cologne was suffocating, smelling of luxury and desperation.
"You should have taken the check, Evelyn," Julian whispered, leaning down so only Nathan and I could hear. "Dad is signing over his remaining trust fund assets to back Vanguard's litigation pool today. Mother has the county zoning board in her pocket. You’re going to lose the ridge, you’re going to lose the house, and you won't have a single penny left to pay for the medical bills on that crippled leg of yours."
My fingers tightened around the handle of my walking stick. Twelve years of being treated as the disposable daughter, the girl sent off to war while the golden son remained wrapped in silk and praise, burned through my veins like liquid fire.
"Julian," I said calmly, my voice projecting with the effortless authority of the bridge of an aircraft carrier. "Every time you try to steal something that isn't yours, you end up broke. You lost the probate case because you were arrogant. You're going to lose this because you're blind."
"We filed the emergency injunction thirty minutes ago, sister," Julian sneered, holding up a red folder. "The hearing is set for ten o'clock sharp in front of Judge Abernathy. The pipeline moves forward."
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"Abernathy is Victoria’s golf partner," Nathan warned under his breath as we walked through the metal detector.
"I know," I replied, feeling the heavy brass cylinder in my leather satchel. "Which means we aren't here to argue local politics. We’re here to drop the hammer."
