Gregory froze and stared at the phone as if it had turned into a weapon.
Every lawyer in America recognized that name because Franklin Parker had written some of the most powerful legal opinions in modern history.
“You harmed my daughter and endangered my grandchild,” my father said slowly.
“It was an accident,” Gregory stammered while panic filled his voice. “She slipped in the kitchen.”
“Remain exactly where you are,” my father replied. “Federal marshals are already on their way to your house.”
Gregory’s face turned pale.
“You cannot do that,” he said desperately. “This is a private matter.”
“You assaulted the daughter of a protected federal official,” my father answered. “Pray she survives.”
The call ended.
Gregory dropped the phone and stared at me with pure terror.
“Your father is the Chief Justice,” he whispered.
I looked at him with a tired smile.
“I warned you that you did not know who wrote the law,” I said softly.
Less than three minutes later the front door exploded open with a thunderous crash as federal agents stormed into the house shouting commands.
Patricia screamed while crawling behind the dining table and Brandon ran into the pantry in panic.
Gregory stood frozen as two agents forced him onto the kitchen floor and pinned his arms behind his back.
“Do not shoot,” Gregory yelled. “I am a lawyer.”
“Stay quiet,” an agent replied while securing his wrists.
Another agent knelt beside me and spoke gently.
“Ms Parker, we are here to help you and the ambulance is waiting outside.”
They lifted me onto a stretcher and carried me through the living room while flashing lights from black government vehicles illuminated the street.
As we passed Gregory he looked up from the floor with desperate eyes.
“Amelia please tell them it was an accident,” he pleaded.
I looked down at him without emotion.
“I am pressing charges for assault and unlawful restraint,” I said clearly. “And I want a divorce.”
Outside the cold winter air hit my face as paramedics rushed me into the ambulance.
A dark government sedan suddenly stopped beside the vehicle and the rear door opened quickly.
My father stepped out wearing a coat over his night clothes and his eyes filled with fear.
“Amelia,” he said while rushing to my side.
“Dad,” I whispered weakly.
He held my hand and kissed my forehead.
“You are safe now,” he said gently.
Then he turned to the lead marshal standing nearby.