Thomas didn't flinch. He just tossed the handcuffs to Agent Miller.
“And the girl?” Miller asked, gesturing toward Brooke, who was now trembling visibly.
Thomas looked at the red mark on his pregnant daughter’s face. The storm in his eyes shifted from cold to volcanic.
“Arrest her for aggravated assault of a pregnant woman,” Thomas commanded. “And ensure she is processed through the main precinct. No private holding cells. I want her in general population.”
“Wait, no! Please!” Brooke shrieked as an agent grabbed her arms, spinning her around and slapping heavy metal cuffs over the sleeves of her cream Chanel jacket. “Grant! Do something! Call your lawyers! You promised me!”
Grant couldn't answer. He was being shoved against the wall, his own hands pinned behind his back. The satisfying, metallic click-click of the handcuffs echoed down the hallway.
Avery watched them being dragged away. She didn't gloat. She didn't smile. She simply stood in the wreckage of her marriage, holding her stomach, and let out one long, trembling breath.