Chapter 3 - The Arrest at the Gates
The sun rose over the Charleston harbor on Saturday morning, casting a warm golden light across the cobblestone streets.
At the Bennett estate in South of Broad, Lydia Bennett was sitting in her morning room, dressed in a silk robe, sipping black tea from a porcelain cup. Her face was tense, dark circles under her eyes revealing she hadn't slept a wink.
Frank sat across from her at the glass table, staring blankly out at the garden. He hadn't spoken a single word to his wife since coming home from the hospital at midnight.
"Stop staring at me like that, Frank!" Lydia snapped, slamming her cup onto the saucer. "It was an accident! Anyone with half a brain could see the girl lost her footing on the wet stone! She’s exaggerating her injuries to make us look bad!"
"She’s in the ICU, Lydia!" Frank roared, standing up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the marble floor. "She has a concussion! And she’s carrying our grandchild—the child we prayed for ten years to see!"
"She is a manipulative liar!" Lydia screamed back, her face twisting in rage. "She bought a fake ultrasound printout online! She knew the divorce was scheduled for today, so she staged a dramatic scene at my luncheon to ruin my reputation! She doesn't have a penny to her name without Ethan!"
Right on cue, the heavy iron gates at the front of the driveway buzzed open.
Lydia looked out the window, a smug smile returning to her face. "See? That’s Ethan coming home. He’s going to go to court, sign those divorce papers, and wipe that wretched girl out of our lives forever."
Two vehicles pulled up the long gravel driveway.
The first was a black Lincoln Navigator. The second was a marked Charleston County Sheriff’s cruiser, its blue and red lights flashing silently against the oak trees.
Lydia’s smile faltered. "What is a police car doing here?"
The front door opened. Ethan walked into the foyer, followed by three uniformed officers and a detective in a sharp grey suit.
Frank walked into the foyer, his eyes widening. "Ethan? What’s going on?"
Lydia rushed down the curved staircase, clutching her silk robe around her neck. "Ethan! Thank God you’re here! Tell these officers to leave our property immediately! That terrible girl must have called them with more lies!"
Ethan stopped at the base of the stairs. He didn't look at his mother with warmth, affection, or respect. He looked at her as if she were a dangerous stranger.
"Lydia Bennett?" the lead detective asked, stepping forward with a leather folder in his hand.
"I am Mrs. Frank Bennett," Lydia said, lifting her chin arrogantly. "And you are trespassing on private property."
"Ma'am, I have a warrant for your arrest," the detective stated calmly. "You are being placed under arrest for Felony Aggravated Assault, Attempted Fetal Endangerment, and Evidence Tampering, stemming from the incident at this residence yesterday afternoon."
Lydia froze. The blood drained from her face so fast she looked like a marble statue.
"Arrest?!" Lydia shrieked, her voice turning high-pitched and hysterical. "Are you insane?! Do you know who I am?! My husband is the Chairman of Bennett Hospitality! We own half the historic district!"
"Not anymore, ma'am," the detective replied, pulling a pair of steel handcuffs from his belt. "We also have a secondary warrant issued by the State Financial Crimes Task Force for corporate embezzlement, tax fraud, and grand larceny exceeding $4 million."
Lydia stumbled backward onto the bottom step of the staircase. "What... what did you say?"
Frank turned to his son, his voice trembling. "Ethan... what is he talking about?"
"Clara owns the company, Dad," Ethan said, his voice flat and completely dead. "She owns 55% of the voting shares. She’s owned it since 2018 when she saved us from bankruptcy. Mom’s been embezzling millions from Clara’s hotel accounts to pay off her personal gambling debts at the offshore casinos in the Bahamas."
Frank stared at his wife in total, unadulterated horror. "Lydia... is this true? The Bahamas trip you took every spring...?"
"It’s a lie!" Lydia screamed, backing up the stairs as the two uniformed officers stepped forward. "Ethan, tell them to stop! Frank, do something! You’re my husband!"
"I don't even know who you are," Frank whispered, turning his back on her.
The two officers moved up the stairs, grabbed Lydia’s arms, and pulled them behind her back. The sharp clack-clack of the handcuffs locking around her wrists echoed through the vaulted foyer.
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"Get your hands off me! You can't do this to me!" Lydia shrieked, kicking her feet as she was escorted down the stairs and out the front doors. "Ethan! Call our lawyers! Ethan!"
Ethan watched the police cruiser pull down the driveway, its sirens blaring as it carried his mother away. He stood in the quiet foyer, surrounded by the towering marble columns of his family’s estate, realizing for the first time in his life that his entire kingdom was built on sand.
