Chapter 5 - The Frozen Accounts
By eleven o'clock that evening, the ballroom had been cleared of civilian guests, leaving only federal agents, military police, and the inner circle of our command unit.
Evelyn and Chloe were seated on a velvet sofa near the fireplace, surrounded by armed guards. Their designer handbags had been seized as evidence, cataloged into brown paper evidence bags. Chloe was sobbing uncontrollably, her mascara running down her cheeks in black streaks, while Evelyn sat in rigid, furious silence, glaring at the floor.
Agent Harris walked over to where Ethan and I stood by the grand windows, looking out over the illuminated Washington Monument in the distance.
"The freeze orders are complete, Colonel," Harris reported, handing me a digital tablet displaying real-time financial tracking data. "Department of the Treasury has frozen all domestic and offshore accounts linked to Evelyn Carter, Chloe Carter, and the Marcus Carter Memorial Trust. Total liquid assets seized: eighty-four thousand dollars."
I raised an eyebrow. "Only eighty-four thousand? The charity raised three million over the last two years."
"Chloe burned through the rest," Harris said, glancing back at my sister with open disdain. "She took out high-interest private loans against the McLean estate using a forged power of attorney with General Carter’s forged signature. The private lenders have already filed liens. As of midnight, the estate is in federal foreclosure."
Evelyn’s head snapped up. "Foreclosure? You can't foreclose on my home! Marcus bought that house for me!"
"Your husband bought that house with a Veterans Affairs guaranteed loan," Ethan replied, turning to face her. "A loan that defaulted six months ago because you stopped paying the mortgage to finance Chloe’s trip to Paris Fashion Week. The VA carried the debt out of respect for General Carter’s service. But that grace period expired the moment you attempted to defraud the Department of the Army."
Evelyn lunged forward, but the firm hand of an MP instantly forced her back onto the sofa. "Natalie! You cannot do this to me! I am your mother! I gave birth to you! Everything I did, I did to protect this family’s reputation!"
"You didn't protect this family," I said, walking slowly across the room until I stood directly over her. "You protected Chloe. You protected your own vanity. When I graduated from West Point, you didn't even show up because Chloe had a minor panic attack over her college midterms. When I deployed to Syria, you didn't send a single letter, but you called me on a satellite phone to demand five thousand dollars because Chloe wrecked her BMW."
"You were strong!" Evelyn screamed, tears of frustration finally spilling from her eyes. "You never needed help! Chloe was delicate! She needed me!"
"She wasn't delicate," I said coldly. "She was corrupt. And you cultivated it."
I looked at Agent Harris. "What about the foreign account? The one linked to Dad's route leak in Jordan?"
Harris’s expression darkened. "We accessed the server logs seized from the McLean property. The IP address that accessed General Carter’s secure military travel schedule three years ago did not belong to Evelyn."
Chloe’s sobs abruptly stopped.
The silence that followed was suffocating. I turned my head slowly, fixing my gaze on my sister.
Chloe was staring at the floor, her breathing shallow, her face drained of every ounce of blood.
"Chloe?" I asked, my voice barely louder than a whisper, yet carrying the weight of a death sentence.
"She didn't know!" Evelyn suddenly shrieked, throwing herself in front of Chloe as much as her handcuffs would allow. "She didn't know what it was! She was just talking to a man online! A wealthy investor who promised to help her launch her fashion line! He just asked for Marcus’s schedule to see if he could arrange a meeting with the defense delegation!"
The horror of the realization settled into the room like a cloud of toxic gas.
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General Marcus Carter hadn't been targeted by random insurgents. His own daughter had handed over his operational coordinates to an operative of an adversarial intelligence service—all to secure funding for a vanity project.
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