She identified herself as Special Investigator Lena Ortiz and told Arthur not to touch the lock.
“This location is now part of an active crime scene,” she said.
Arthur stared at her.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, Justice Sterling.”
“Then you know you have no authority to enter my property without a warrant.”
Ortiz held up a sealed document.
“We have one.”
The confidence in Arthur’s face cracked.
The emergency transmission from Maya’s phone had included enough live audio to establish immediate danger.
A duty judge in another jurisdiction had authorized entry while the helicopters were still in the air.
The order covered the shed, the mansion, the home security system, and any device that might contain evidence of assault, unlawful confinement, witness intimidation, or obstruction.
Arthur looked toward Victor as though the warrant had come from him.
Victor shook his head once.
“This is not influence,” he said.
“This is procedure.
You should recognize it.”
Ortiz ordered a technician to cut the lock.
The iron bar split under the hydraulic tool.
When the door opened, white medical light flooded the shed.
Maya recoiled against the wall.
Victor saw her torn sleeve, the swelling along her arms, and the marks left by the belt.
For the first time since landing, his expression changed.
His jaw tightened.
But he did not charge at Arthur.
He did not shout.
He stepped into the shed slowly, removed his coat, and wrapped it around his daughter.
“You came,” Maya whispered.
Victor crouched beside her.
“You called.”
That was all he said.
The medical team moved in.
Maya kept hold of the burner phone until a paramedic gently took it and placed it inside an evidence bag.
Victor remained beside her while they examined her injuries and lifted her onto a stretcher.
As they carried her outside, Julian came down from the terrace.
“This is insane,” he shouted.
“She hit me first.
Look at my face.”
Investigator Ortiz turned toward him.
“Why did she hit you?”
Julian stopped.
“She attacked me.”
“That was not my question.”
Arthur stepped between them.
“My son will not be questioned without counsel.”
Ortiz nodded.
“That is his right.”
Arthur seemed relieved until she added, “He is also being detained while we execute the warrant.”
Julian’s whiskey glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the stone path.
Inside the ambulance, Maya heard the sound.
She did not smile.
She was too exhausted even to cry.
At the hospital, doctors documented every injury.
They photographed the pattern of the belt marks, treated the swelling, and noted defensive bruising around Maya’s wrists and shoulders.
A forensic nurse asked questions in a quiet room while Victor sat outside the door.
He wanted to remain with her, but he understood why the nurse needed Maya to speak without anyone else present.
