PART 2
The second Sabrina headed back upstairs to her party guests, I stepped out from behind the dark shelves. Wyatt admitted something to me that completely altered the entire legal situation: the house, the luxury vehicles, and the commercial bank accounts his wife was desperately trying to seize did not belong to him at all. They were entirely owned by the parent holding company of Heartland Freight Systems, of which I remained the sole shareholder. My son was merely serving as an appointed director of a smaller subsidiary, and he occupied this suburban house under a standard corporate lease agreement. Sabrina had never bothered to read the actual legal paperwork over the years because she was only interested in maintaining her lavish lifestyle.
I carefully snapped clear photos of the thick iron chain, his severe physical injuries, and the fresh injection marks on his arms. I preserved a small cotton pad soaked with fresh blood from his last chemical injection inside a clean plastic bag. After securing the evidence, I assured Wyatt that I would reenter the house through the front door like an unexpected guest.
Ten minutes later, I rang the front doorbell while holding a cheap box of holiday chocolates, intentionally bending my back to appear fragile. Sabrina turned pale when she opened the door, but she could not risk turning me away in front of fifteen laughing party guests. I shuffled into the living room feigning complete clumsiness, complimented their massive Christmas tree, and patiently endured endless teasing from Irving, who was openly wearing my son’s gold college graduation watch on his wrist.
Before taking my leave, I pulled Sabrina aside near the foyer. “I am actually here regarding an urgent land matter, Sabrina. A commercial parcel of real estate that I purchased alongside Wyatt is about to be seized for a new highway project. The state compensation check is around eighteen million dollars, but the state officials require our physical signatures in person before January third.”
Her greedy eyes lit up instantly. “Wyatt is actually home right now,” she lied smoothly. “He is feeling quite sick tonight, but perhaps he can manage to sign your documents.”
She asked me to wait alone in the spacious kitchen while she talked it over. Standing near the dark hallway, I overheard the three conspirators aggressively debating their options.
“Just give the old man the exact same chemical mixture,” Irving instructed her firmly. “Once he falls sound asleep, we can search his vehicle for the land deeds. If he fails to wake up tomorrow, we will just inform the authorities that he suffered a sudden health decline due to his old age.”
Sabrina walked back into the kitchen carrying a warm cup of spiced punch for me. I pretended to take a long sip, and the moment she turned around to grab a napkin, I quickly poured the entire liquid contents into a large potted poinsettia plant. Afterwards, I politely asked to use the restroom and slipped back down into the basement.
At precisely eleven forty six in the evening, I recorded a clear video of Wyatt stating his full legal name, the current date, the exact identities of his captors, and the mysterious substances he had been injected with. Within the exact same video frame, I carefully captured the thick ankle chain, his mangled kneecap, a roll of heavy plastic sheeting, a construction shovel, and a large bag of quicklime lined up against the concrete wall.
“Dad, please do not walk out through the front entrance,” Wyatt whispered nervously. “Irving keeps a loaded shotgun near the hall, and Sabrina’s cousin currently works as an active officer for the local municipal police.”
I safely escaped the property through the side garage door. Irving spotted me from a side window, fired a loud warning shot into the air, and aggressively pursued my pickup truck using Wyatt’s SUV. As he accelerated around a sharp curve on the slick pavement, he lost control of the vehicle and crashed violently into a heavy stone planter box. I kept driving straight to a nearby gas station, locked my truck doors, and immediately placed a call to Arthur Montgomery, the chief legal counsel for our enterprise.
“I need you to activate our internal corporate fraud protocol immediately,” I ordered him coldly. “Cancel all executive corporate credit cards, revoke every existing power of attorney, and contact the State Attorney General’s Office right away. Inform them that an innocent victim is being held hostage, severely injured, and drugged inside a residence, and make sure to highlight that local municipal police officers might be compromised.”
My second phone call went directly to Samuel, our corporate head of security. “Do not attempt to enter the premises or physically touch anyone on the property. Simply establish a secure perimeter outside the neighborhood and await the immediate arrival of state investigators.”
By eleven fifty eight in the evening, bright state police cruisers flooded Chestnut Hill Avenue. As the unsuspecting party guests happily shouted “Happy New Year” upstairs, blue flashing lights illuminated the entire grand facade of the house. Just moments before state troopers forced open the basement door, Sabrina rushed into the hall holding a signed piece of white paper in her hands.
