“Mr. Hensley?” the man asked, his tone clipped and professional. “I am Arthur Vance. I represent Dr. Clara Hensley. This document serves as an immediate injunction freeze on all of your personal and business bank accounts.”
Thomas stared at the paper, his mouth opening and closing like a suffocating fish. “What? On what grounds?!”
“On the grounds of a civil lawsuit contesting your documented, illegal attempt to fraudulently transfer and liquidate her late mother’s estate,” Mr. Vance replied smoothly, buttoning his jacket. “My client has also filed a restraining order. If you step foot near her property or her laboratory, you will be jailed. We will see you in federal court.”
Back in the Dean’s office, I capped the pen, a profound sigh of relief leaving my lungs. It was done. The house was safe. I was safe.
As I stood up to leave, the heavy oak door opened. Dr. Fletcher walked in, accompanied by a stern, incredibly wealthy-looking older man wearing a tailored Italian suit that radiated quiet, old money.
