I reached into my jacket pocket. I didn’t pull out a weapon. I pulled out a manila file folder.
I threw it onto the floor in front of her. It slid across the hardwood and stopped against her knee.
“Read it,” I ordered.
The command voice—the one that had directed battalions in the Korengal Valley—made her flinch physically.
She opened the folder with trembling hands.
“It’s… a deed,” she stammered.
“Read the owner’s name,” I said.
“Johnathan Blackwood,” she read. Her eyes darted to the next page. “Bank of America… Paid in Full.”
She looked up, her face pale white. “But… Emily said…”
“Emily lives here because I allow it,” I said, stepping closer. “Emily doesn’t work to pay a mortgage. She works because she loves her career. The money she sends you? That comes from my account. The car you drive? My name is on the title.”
I leaned down, bringing my face level with hers.
“You live here because I tolerated it. I tolerated your insults. I tolerated your laziness. I tolerated you treating me like a servant in my own kingdom.”
My eyes narrowed.
“That tolerance ended the moment you threw ice water on my daughter.”
Sarah scrambled backward, crab-walking away from me until her back hit the sofa. “I… I didn’t mean it! It was a joke! I was just… helping!”
“Helping?” I repeated. “You caused thermal shock in a five-year-old. That is not help. That is assault.”
“John, please!” she begged, looking at the soldiers. “Send them away! You’re scaring me!”
“I should hope so,” I said. “Because you are currently trespassing on a federal officer’s property after assaulting his family. In my world, Sarah, that makes you a hostile combatant.”
