THEY MOCKED A FRAIL OLD WOMAN... UNTIL AN ARMY GENERAL WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR!

The fluorescent lights of the Oak Creek precinct interrogation room hummed with a low, monotonous drone. Toby Miller sat slumped in a bolted-down metal chair, his wrists freed from the handcuffs but his spirit thoroughly crushed. The red leather jacket felt heavy and suffocating now, a visible badge of his monumental stupidity.

The heavy steel door swung open with a loud metallic click. Trooper Davis stepped inside, carrying a thick manila folder which he dropped onto the center of the metal table with a sharp slap. Behind him walked General Marcus Vance, his posture upright and intimidating, followed by Elena, who still wore her dark blue sweatshirt and the stark white bandage on her hand.

Toby shrank back into his chair, refusing to make eye contact. "I want my lawyer," he muttered defensively, staring at a grease smudge on the table.

"Your lawyer is currently stuck behind three separate federal roadblocks on Interstate Eighty-four," Marcus said smoothly, taking a seat across from Toby. He didn't raise his voice; his tone was conversational, which made it ten times more terrifying. "And even if he were here, Mr. Miller, he couldn't undo what your father built this company on."

Toby looked up, his eyes wide and bloodshot. "What are you talking about?"

Elena pulled up a second metal chair and sat down beside her uncle. She leaned forward, resting her uninjured left elbow on the table, fixing Toby with that same intense, unblinking stare from the diner.

"For three years, Miller Logistics has been cutting corners on military supply transport maintenance," Elena said, her voice quiet and steady. "Your father’s fleet has failed basic safety inspections across four different states. You think today was just a random road rage incident? You’ve been driving around this county like you own the asphalt because your father taught you that laws are just suggestions for people with money."

Toby swallowed hard, his throat dry. "That's... that's corporate stuff. I just work procurement. I didn't have anything to do with maintenance audits!"

"You didn't have to," Marcus countered coldly. "Your arrogance made you a symptom of a much larger rot. And today, that rot crashed directly into a federal logistics supply chain. Your father is currently watching twelve million dollars in government contracts evaporate on his office terminal."

The door opened again, admitting a frantic, breathless Arthur Miller. The older tycoon burst into the room, his expensive silk tie askew, his face flushed with a mixture of rage and terror.