Chapter 3 - The Price of a Hand
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Two towering Master-at-Arms officers in dress whites emerged from the security perimeter behind the banquet tables.
They did not hesitate, moving with the practiced efficiency of combat-trained sailors.
Derek saw them coming and took a panicked step backward.
His heel caught the draped hem of a linen tablecloth, sending crystal water goblets shattering onto the marble floor.
"Don't touch me!" Derek screamed, his voice cracking into a panicked shriek.
"I haven't done anything wrong!"
"She assaulted my pride first!"
The taller Master-at-Arms grabbed Derek’s right arm and swept his leg with surgical precision.
Derek hit the polished floor with a dull thud that echoed off the high ceiling.
His expensive silk tuxedo jacket twisted awkwardly around his shoulders as his face was pressed against the cold stone.
Patricia shrieked, lunging forward with her manicured fingernails aimed directly at the petty officer's face.
"Get your filthy hands off my boy!" she screamed, sounding entirely unhinged.
"I will sue every single person in this building!"
"I will have your pensions stripped!"
Master Chief Keating stepped smoothly into her path, blocking her like an iron bulkhead.
He did not raise a hand to her, but his massive frame was an impenetrable wall.
"Ma'am, if you take one more step forward, you will be arrested for assaulting a federal officer," Keating said without raising his voice.
Patricia froze, her hands hovering in the air, her chest heaving beneath her sapphire evening gown.
For the first time in her pampered, untouchable life, she was looking into the eyes of a man who did not care about her family name.
Derek was groaning on the floor, writhing as the cold steel of standard-issue handcuffs clicked tightly around his wrists.
The sound of those ratchets locking shut was sharp and final.
Several guests pulled out their smartphones, capturing the entire humiliating spectacle from every conceivable angle.
Derek tried to hide his face against the floor, but the camera flashes caught every drop of sweat dripping from his forehead.
"Claire, tell them to stop!" Derek begged into the marble tiles, tears of pure rage spilling down his cheeks.
"Claire, please!"
"We're your blood!"
"You can't let them treat me like a common criminal!"
I stood perfectly still, watching the brother who had taken everything from me grovel on the floor.
Twenty-five years ago, when I was thrown into the street, Derek had stood in the warm doorway eating a slice of peach pie.
He had laughed while my father wept in his wheelchair behind the screen door.
Derek had watched me carry that black trash bag down the driveway in the freezing November rain and shouted after me that I was garbage.
Now, the garbage was standing in a four-striped uniform, and he was eating dirt beneath the American flag.
A young Navy lieutenant stepped beside me and offered a clean, folded linen napkin.
"Captain Vance," she said softly, her eyes full of profound respect.
"Your lip, ma'am."
I took the napkin and pressed it lightly against the corner of my mouth.
A small red spot bloomed on the white linen.
"Thank you, Lieutenant," I said evenly.
The Shore Patrol officers pulled Derek roughly to his feet, holding him firmly by both elbows.
His expensive hair was ruined, his bow tie dangled loosely against his collar, and his eyes were red and wild with panic.
Patricia rushed to his side, clutching his cuffed hands, looking around the room as if expecting someone to stand up for them.
Not a single person moved.
The retired admirals, the young sailors, the civic leaders, and the civilian donors all stared at them with cold, unwavering disgust.
Derek was marched down the center aisle of the ballroom, his shoes shuffling awkwardly between his armed escorts.
As he passed me, he stopped for a split second, his breath hitching in his throat.
"You destroyed me," he hissed through clenched teeth.
I looked him straight in the eyes, my voice steady enough to cut glass.
"No, Derek."
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"You destroyed yourself twenty-five years ago."
"Tonight, you simply received the bill."
