Chapter 7 - The Lion's Den
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At ten o'clock that morning, a black Mercedes sedan sped through the main security gate of Naval Station Norfolk.
Patricia slammed on the brakes as two armed guards stepped into the roadway, their M4 rifles held at low-ready.
"Halt your vehicle, ma'am!" the gate guard commanded, his hand raised.
Patricia rolled down her tinted window, her face contorted in an ugly mask of outrage.
"I am Patricia Holloway, and I demand to see Claire Vance immediately!" she shouted at the nineteen-year-old sailor.
"You let me through this gate right now, or I will have your commanding officer fire you by noon!"
The sailor did not even blink.
"Step out of the vehicle, ma'am, and place your hands on the hood."
It took forty-five minutes of rigorous security checks, bomb-sniffing dogs, and identity verification before Patricia was allowed past the gate.
She was not allowed to drive her car onto the installation.
Instead, she was escorted inside the back of a navy patrol vehicle, fuming with indignity as sailors watched her pass.
When the vehicle pulled up outside the historic brick headquarters of Naval Station Norfolk, Patricia stormed through the front doors.
She fully expected to find me sitting in some cramped, miserable cubicle beneath buzzing fluorescent lights.
She had convinced herself that my career was nothing more than clerical drudgery that I puffed up to look important.
Instead, an armed Master-at-Arms escorted her up a sweeping grand staircase lined with brass plaques and naval battle flags.
They stopped outside heavy double oak doors bearing a polished brass sign: "COMMANDING OFFICER - CAPTAIN C. VANCE."
The marine sentry opened the door, and Patricia took two angry steps inside before her breath caught in her throat.
The office was immense, with panoramic arched windows looking directly over the naval piers.
Outside, two massive Nimitz-class aircraft carriers sat docked, with hundreds of sailors working on the flight decks below.
The room smelled of polished cedar, brass polish, and fresh coffee.
On the wall hung framed presidential commissions, international citations, and photographs of me shaking hands with heads of state.
I sat behind a massive desk carved from the salvaged timbers of a historic naval frigate.
I wore my crisp khaki service uniform, my ribbons lined up in perfect rows across my chest, my rank insignias gleaming on my collar.
My aide, Lieutenant Commander Ramirez, stood silently near the window with a leather-bound briefing folder.
Patricia stood in the center of the Persian rug, clutching her designer handbag like a shield.
"You look ridiculous," Patricia spat out, trying desperately to reassert the power she had held over me for three decades.
"You dress up like a man and pretend you run the world, but you are still that worthless, selfish little girl I threw in the gutter."
I did not invite her to sit down.
I did not offer her a cup of water.
I simply signed the official document in front of me, capped my pen with a quiet click, and looked up at her.
"You have five minutes, Patricia," I said, my voice dead and emotionless.
"State your business on my base."
Patricia’s face twisted in fury as she slammed her palms down on my desk.
"You drop these charges against your brother right now!" she hissed.
"Derek spent the night in a filthy cell with common murderers because of your petty, vindictive drama!"
"He has panic attacks, Claire!"
"He cannot sleep on a metal cot!"
"You call the prosecutor and tell them it was an accident, or so help me God, I will disown you from every single cent of the Holloway estate!"
I leaned back in my high-backed leather chair and looked at the woman who had made my youth a living hell.
"You already disowned me, Patricia."
"Twenty-five years ago, in the rain, with sixty-three dollars and a trash bag."
"You have nothing left to threaten me with."
"And as for the Holloway estate..."
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I pulled a thick Manila envelope from my desk drawer and slid it across the polished wood until it tapped against her fingertips.
"You might want to consult a very good attorney before you mention that house again."
