I climbed in last.
As the helicopter rose above the snowy estate, I looked down once.
The Reynolds family residence shrank beneath us, all stone, glass, flags, and secrets.
Margaret stood alone on the steps.
Daniel stood several feet behind her.
Between them lay eight years.
Behind them, in a second-floor window, the portrait of General Victor Reynolds stared out over the lawn.
For the first time, he looked less like a legend.
And more like a locked door someone had finally broken open.
PART 6 — THE PRICE OF A NAME
The investigation moved faster than I expected.
Powerful families often believe time belongs to them. They delay. They pressure. They call favors wrapped in polite language. They use phrases like misunderstanding, optics, internal resolution, and unnecessary escalation.
But paperwork has no respect for family names.
Within three weeks, Daniel Reynolds was placed under formal review. By the end of January, he had temporarily stepped down from his command role pending inquiry. The news never became public in the way tabloids would have loved; military institutions prefer their scandals folded into official language and locked behind polished doors.
