Chapter 53 - The Siege of Cumberland Terminal
The cold steel of the contractor’s rifle hovered inches from David’s chest, but my brother didn't yield an inch. His jaw clenched, muscles coiling like a spring ready to snap.
"You're trespassing on American soil, Croft," David said, his voice dropping into a deadly whisper. "Diplomatic pouch or not, you pull a trigger in this room, and not even the British Embassy will save you from a federal murder charge."
Alistair chuckled, a dry, venomous sound. "You mistake our intentions, Mr. Vance. We have no desire to shoot you. Dead owners trigger probate, and probate ties up assets in American civil courts for years. Lord William requires clear, unencumbered title to your automated dispatch rail grid within the hour. The ships docking out there are carrying cargo that cannot wait for the Tennessee legal system to wake up."
"What's in those containers?" I demanded, stepping between Alistair and my brother. "Eleanor was smuggling laundered bonds and corporate intelligence. What is an eighty-year-old Scottish lord moving through Nashville that requires warship-level secrecy?"
Alistair tilted his head, his eyes glittering with cold amusement. "Let us simply say that the Sterling family has diversified beyond banking. The containers hold sovereign assets confiscated during the de-escalation of foreign corporate trusts. If you cooperate, Vance Logistics will receive a ten percent handling royalty—more than enough to rebuild your family's pathetic legacy. If you refuse..." He snapped his fingers.
One of the guards placed a live satellite terminal onto the table. The screen flickered to life, revealing an austere, wood-paneled library overlooking a stormy Scottish coastline. Sitting in a high-backed leather chair was an elderly man whose eyes burned with ruthless clarity. His hair was stark white, his cheekbones sharp, wearing a tailored tweed suit with an antique silver watch chain looped across his vest.
"David Vance. Sarah Vance," Lord William Sterling spoke, his voice deep, gravelly, and commanding respect through the digital feed. "Your father was an honorable man, but he lacked the vision to understand what we built together. Eleanor was reckless, yes. Her vanity nearly ruined a decades-long integration. But her failure does not nullify my claim."
"Your claim is built on a lie, Lord William," I countered boldly, stepping right up to the camera lens. "Silas Vance owned the Sterling fleet notes. You've forged an admiralty lien to steal our deep-water port."
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Lord William’s expression hardened into pure ice. "In twenty minutes, Miss Vance, my private security will initiate full lock-out procedures on your rail grid. You have until midnight to sign the quitclaim deed, or I will dismantle Vance Logistics bolt by bolt, and leave your brother to rot in an admiralty prison cell."
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