Chains of Power

Chapter 3 — Fractures in the Glass

The boardroom glass caught Selene’s reflection like a cruel mirror: flawless makeup, immaculate suit, the sharp line of power she had built her reputation upon.

But her eyes, they betrayed her. Wide, unsettled, pupils dilated as the muted screen on the wall replayed the same footage on every channel.

Edmond Welder, her ex-husband, stepping out of prison as if he owned the world. The silence around the long mahogany table was thick.

Finally, her father broke it. Charles Carter’s voice was low, deliberate. “So. That convict you discarded is now the most decorated man in uniform.”

Her younger brother, Vincent, leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Correction, Father, not just decorated. Seven stars. Do you even know what that means?”

Charles’s eyes flickered with disapproval, but Vincent pressed on. “It means he outranks most of Central Command. It means half the military will bow when he walks in. And our darling Selene just filed for divorce.”

Selene snapped her gaze to him, steel sharpening in her tone. “Watch your mouth, Vincent.”

He raised his hands innocently. “I’m just saying, maybe tossing him aside wasn’t your smartest play.”

Her stomach knotted. “I didn’t know.”

Charles’s voice cut in, sharp as a blade. “You should have known. You don’t marry a man like that and remain blind to who he truly is.”

Her mother, elegant and cold as marble, tapped a manicured nail against the table. “The problem isn’t what she knew. The problem is what the world will think now. Imagine the headlines: Carter heiress abandons national hero. Do you understand how this could damage us?”

Selene’s composure cracked for half a second. “He wasn’t a hero three hours ago, he was a convict!”

Vincent leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Or maybe you were the fool who never asked why.”

The words landed harder than she cared to admit. Across town, the convoy rolled into the city square. The crowd was already waiting. Word had spread faster than wildfire, social media ablaze with theories, conspiracies, and hero-worship.

“General Welder! Over here!”

“Tell us the truth, why did they lock you away?”

“Were you betrayed?”

“Who ordered your imprisonment?”

Reporters surged forward, cameras flashing like strobe lights. Soldiers formed a protective wall, but the questions pierced through. Edmond stepped out of the vehicle.

The square fell into a hush, a rare, collective silence, broken only by the flutter of flags in the autumn wind. He cut a striking figure: uniform restored to its immaculate glory, medals glinting faintly against the twilight.

A woman pushed forward through the barricade, her voice trembling. “My son died in Operation Black Veil. They said you abandoned them. Was it true?”

The air snapped taut. All cameras swung toward Edmond. Maddox’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing, waiting. Edmond’s gaze found the woman. For the first time, he spoke.

“I never abandoned my men,” he said, voice low but carrying across the square. “Not one of them. I buried them myself when the Council ordered silence.”

The crowd gasped. Reporters shouted over one another, the frenzy exploding. “Are you accusing the Council?”

“What were their orders?”

“Why did they imprison you if you’re innocent?”

A soldier in the front row saluted sharply. “Sir, permission to speak freely.”

Edmond nodded once. The soldier’s voice shook with emotion. “I served under you, General. Black Veil was no failure. It was survival. You saved what you could.”

The square erupted again, half in support, half in suspicion. From the edge of the crowd, a suited man stepped forward, his presence oddly precise, like a blade sliding out of its sheath.

He didn’t shout. Didn’t need to. His voice carried like venom. “Tell us, General,” the man said, eyes narrow. “If you’re the hero everyone claims, why did you remain silent all these years? Why didn’t you defend yourself?”

The question cut deeper than any shouted accusation. Edmond’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer. Maddox hissed under his breath, “Don’t”

But Edmond finally spoke. “Because silence was my order.”

The man’s lips curved. “Whose order?”

For a heartbeat, Edmond looked like he might say it. His chest rose, his fists clenched. The name burned on his tongue, but he swallowed it. Instead, he turned away, back toward the convoy.

The square roared with outrage. Reporters screamed. Cameras zoomed. The silence had only deepened the mystery.

Back at Carter Manor, Selene’s phone buzzed incessantly. Messages, headlines, missed calls. She hadn’t moved since leaving the boardroom. Her mother entered, a glass of wine in hand.

“You’re trembling,” her mother said, disapproval hidden beneath casual tone. “That’s unbecoming.”

Selene ignored her. Her mind replayed Edmond’s voice from the broadcast, steady, unshaken. Not a convict. Not the broken man she had convinced herself he was. A general. A man of silence, loyalty, power.

And a man she had just betrayed. Her phone lit again, this time with a message she hadn’t expected. Unknown Number: You abandoned him. Do you know what you’ve unleashed?

She stared, cold creeping down her spine. “Mother…” Selene’s voice faltered. “What if we made a mistake?”

Her mother sipped the wine slowly. “Mistake or not, perception is reality. And right now, perception will bury us if we don’t get ahead of this.”

Vincent’s voice cut from the doorway, smug. “Or maybe it’ll bury you, Selene. Father always said you married beneath us.”

“Enough!” Selene snapped, voice cracking. But the strength she had built her whole life felt brittle now.

In the city square, Edmond re-entered the convoy, Maddox sliding in beside him. “You just painted a target on your back,” Maddox muttered. “You could have named names. Exposed them. But you didn’t. Why?”

Edmond’s gaze drifted to the window, where the city lights blurred into streaks of fire. “Because some truths will kill more people than lies ever could.”

Maddox studied him, lips pressed thin. “And what about her? Selene. You think she’s watching?”

Edmond didn’t answer. His silence was louder than anything he could have said.

The convoy turned a corner. Ahead, a blockade of unmarked cars slid into the street, engines growling. Doors opened. Dark-suited men stepped out, weapons visible. Maddox cursed. “Ambush.”

Edmond’s hand slid to his sidearm, calm as stone. The first bullet cracked the night.