Chapter 3 - The Execution of AuthorityCarmen rushed forward, her red manicured nails clawing at Alexander’s jacket. "LET GO OF MY SON! I'LL HAVE YOU KILLED! I HAVE THE POLICE CHIEF ON SPEED DIAL!"
Alexander didn't even turn his head. One of his team members, a massive former Delta operator named Vance, stepped into Carmen’s path, grabbing her by her wrist and forcing her back into the armchair with a firm, unyielding shove.
"Sit down, ma'am," Vance commanded cleanly.
Alexander dragged Javier by his collar, tossing him onto the velvet sofa beside his mother. Javier huddled there, clutching his bruised throat, coughing frantically, his face pale as paper.
Alexander pulled a sleek leather binder from his coat, dropping it flat onto the glass coffee table.
"My name is Colonel Alexander Brooks," he announced, looking around at the seven terrified women in the room. "Former Commanding Officer of the United States Army Special Operations Command. And currently Senior Vice President of Global Security for Sterling Financial Group."
Carmen’s jaw twitched. "I don't care who you are! You broke into my son's property! You'll go to federal prison for this!"
"Your son doesn't own this property, Mrs. Robles," Alexander corrected deadpan. "And twenty minutes ago, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, in conjunction with the State Attorney General’s Office, unsealed an emergency racketeering warrant for your entire real estate portfolio."
Carmen’s eyes widened in total, horror-stricken shock. "What... what are you talking about?!"
Alexander opened the binder, projecting high-definition legal documents and financial transfer logs onto the penthouse's eighty-inch media screen:
[NOTICE OF ASSET SEIZURE: ROBLES ENTERPRISES PROPERTIES FROZEN UNDER RICO ACT.]
[ACCOMPANYING ARREST WARRANTS: CARMEN ROBLES & JAVIER ROBLES — EXTORTION, AGGRAVATED ASSAULT, & BANK FRAUD.]
"For the last six months," Alexander revealed, his voice smooth and razor-sharp, "my private intelligence team has been monitoring your illegal offshore accounts in Panama. We watched you launder money through fraudulent property transfers. We were going to let the federal prosecutors take their time... until you put your hands on my daughter tonight."
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The six women around the dining table let out humiliated, terrified shrieks, grabbing their bags, trying to run toward the door, but Alexander’s operators blocked the exit with iron resolve.
"Nobody leaves," Alexander commanded softly. "The Chicago Police Department Internal Affairs unit is downstairs, accompanied by the Federal Marshals. Every single person who stood in that honeymoon suite tonight will be leaving this building in chains."
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