From Ex-con To Supreme God Of War

Chapter 5. The Brief Arrest and Quick Bail

"Let us ignore that pathetic beggar, darling. The band is ready, and our guests are waiting to see us cut the cake," George Smith said, forcing a bright, confident smile back onto his face as he offered his arm to Alice.

Alice took a deep, shaky breath, pushing the cold wave of dread out of her chest. She nodded, smoothing the front of her white gown.

"You're right, George. Thomas is just a ghost from the past. He can't touch us."

The soft classical string music began to play again, floating gently across the magnificent ballroom.

The high-society guests exchanged nervous whispers for a few moments, but the tension quickly dissolved as waiters poured more champagne and laughter filled the room.

William Johnson raised his glass, loudly declaring that minor disruptions could never shake the mighty foundation of the Johnson and Smith families.

Just as George reached for the silver knife to cut the three-tier wedding cake alongside Alice, the doors of the ballroom suddenly burst open for the second time that evening.

This time, there were no muddy boots or solitary figures standing in the doorway.

Instead, a squad of ten state financial crime inspectors and uniformed police officers marched into the room with grim, unyielding expressions.

The music cut off instantly, plunging the grand ballroom into an eerie, suffocating silence.

The lead inspector, a stern-faced man with sharp glasses and an official badge pinned to his dark suit lapel, strode straight past the stunned guests and walked up the steps of the elevated stage.

"Edward Johnson. George Smith," the inspector’s voice boomed coldly through the ballroom.

"By order of the State Financial Oversight Bureau and the Anti-Corruption Task Force, you are both formally detained for immediate questioning regarding multiple high-risk transaction flags and suspicious corporate wire transfers."

Absolute, pin-drop silence gripped the room.

Hundreds of guests froze in their tracks, their eyes wide with disbelief as they stared at the stage.

Alice’s jaw dropped open.

The silver cake knife slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against the glass tray.

"What? What are you talking about? This is our wedding night. You must be making a mistake."

Florence Johnson shrieked, rushing forward and waving her hands.

"Do you know who we are? My husband is William Johnson. My new son-in-law belongs to the Smith Group. You cannot just walk in here and ruin a private celebration over a clerical error."

The lead inspector did not even flinch. He signaled his officers, two of whom stepped forward with handcuffs in their hands.

"There is no mistake, Mrs. Johnson," the inspector replied flatly, pulling out a signed judicial warrant.

"We received an emergency audit notification highlighting irregular capital flows linked directly to Edward Johnson's personal accounts and recent corporate deposits. You will both come with us downtown right now."

George Smith’s face flushed deeply.

His arrogant composure shattered instantly, replaced by sheer panic and public humiliation.

He stepped back, raising his voice in absolute outrage.

"My father is Arthur Smith. I am a multi-billionaire heir. You cannot touch me. I demand to call my legal team this instant."

"You can talk to your lawyers from a holding cell," the inspector barked coldly. "Take them."

Before George or Edward could offer another word of protest, the steel handcuffs clicked shut around their wrists.

The police officers gripped their arms firmly, turning them around and escorting them down the stage steps in front of every high-society guest in Valmoria.

Camera flashes from curious guests lit up the dark corners of the ballroom.

Whispers erupted into loud, uncontrollable gasps of shock and mockery.

"Did the police just arrest the groom and the brother at the wedding?"

"I heard rumors that the Johnson family's businesses were bleeding money behind the scenes..."

"What a massive public scandal. Alice Johnson's dream wedding turned into a police raid.”

Alice stood frozen on the stage, her face as pale as a corpse.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched her new husband and her brother being dragged out of the ballroom in handcuffs, surrounded by officers.

William and Florence rushed toward the exit, shouting, their dignity completely destroyed in a matter of seconds.

Within ten minutes, the grand ballroom was half-empty.

The guests fled the venue, whispering gossip about the sudden downfall of the Johnson family.

The magnificent wedding reception had turned into a tragic, humiliating disaster.

Down at the central police precinct, the atmosphere was thick with tension.

Edward and George sat inside a cold holding cell, their expensive designer suits rumpled and their faces twisted in blind, suffocating rage.

"This is insane." Edward roared, slamming his cuffed hands against the steel bars of the cell.

"How did the financial bureau get our audit flags tonight, of all the nights? It has to be a setup."

George paced back and forth inside the cramped cell like a caged animal, his teeth grinding together so hard his jaw ached.

"It was that beggar. It was Thomas Green. He must have tipped off some low-level investigators just to humiliate us in front of the entire city."

"Thomas? That broke ex-con?" Edward scoffed bitterly, though a cold seed of doubt planted itself in his chest.

"How could a penniless nobody who just got out of prison mobilize state financial inspectors?"

"I don't care how he did it." George snarled, his eyes burning with pure malice.

"He ruined our wedding night. He made us a laughingstock in front of every billionaire in Valmoria. I want him crushed into dust."

Fortunately for them, the deep-rooted corruption of Valmoria ran too fast and too deep for a simple preliminary detention to stick overnight.

Using their immense wealth, expensive high-priced lawyers, and hidden political connections, the Johnson and Smith families pulled every string available.

They argued that the audit flags were administrative oversights and posted heavy emergency bail bonds.

Exactly twenty-four hours after the humiliating police raid, the iron doors of the precinct holding cells swung open.

Edward Johnson and George Smith walked out into the cool evening air, stepping directly into a waiting luxury limousine paid for by their families.

They were legally free.

Their bank accounts were not frozen, and their corporate assets were still intact.

They had dodged permanent financial ruin, but the psychological blow to their pride was catastrophic.

Sitting inside the leather-lined interior of the limousine, George adjusted his collar, his expression dark and venomous.

"We are out," George whispered, his voice trembling with suppressed fury.

"Our wealth is safe, and our businesses are still standing. But our reputation was dragged through the mud because of that filthy ex-con."

"If we just let him walk around Valmoria, the whole city will mock us forever," Edward added, clenching his fists until his knuckles paled.

"We need to hit him back so hard he never dares to breathe near us again."

"Forget normal thugs," George said, a wicked, calculated smile spreading across his face.

"If we send street goons, he'll just beat them up like he did at the hotel. We need to use the legal system. We need to frame him."

"Frame him for what?" Edward asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Drug trafficking, extortion, or anything we can think of," George replied smoothly, pulling out his smartphone.

"I happen to know a very corrupt senior prosecutor named Orson Kingsley who owes my family a massive favor. For fifty thousand dollars, Orson can fabricate an airtight federal drug warrant and have Thomas locked away in a maximum-security prison cell within forty-eight hours—permanently."

Edward’s face lit up with a cruel, vindictive grin.

"Do it, George. Call Orson right now. Let’s wipe that calm, arrogant look off Thomas Green’s face once and for all.”

Unbeknownst to the two arrogant young heirs, inside a secure, dark monitoring van parked two blocks away from the limousine, Commander Ethan sat quietly before a high-resolution digital screen.

The screen displayed a live, crystal-clear audio and video interception of everything Edward and George were discussing inside the limousine.

Ethan tapped his communication earpiece, connecting directly to Thomas, who was sitting quietly in the living room of the safe house with Mia.

"General," Ethan reported, his voice calm and steady.

"Edward Johnson and George Smith have just posted bail. They are currently contacting a corrupt senior prosecutor named Orson Kingsley to fabricate a fake federal drug warrant and frame you."

A low, quiet silence hung on the other end of the line for a second before Thomas’s calm, unbothered voice came through the speaker.

"Let them make their call, Ethan," Thomas said softly, a dangerous, cold amusement in his tone.

"Allow them to set the trap. Let us see how deep their corruption goes before we snap the cage shut on their heads."

"Understood, Sir," Ethan replied, watching the digital feed closely. "Shall I prepare the counter-strike dossier?"

"Not yet," Thomas replied, his eyes narrowing as he looked out the window toward the bright skyline of Valmoria.

"Let them dig their own graves first. They wanted a legal war? I will give them a courtroom battle they will never forget."