Still amused, he dialed the number I recited.
The call connected after two rings.
A deep voice answered immediately.
“Identify yourself.”
Thomas rolled his eyes.
“This is Thomas Whitmore. I’m Claire’s husband. Your daughter is causing a ridiculous scene here—”
“Where is my daughter?” the voice interrupted sharply.
Thomas paused, confused.
“She’s right here on the floor crying because she slipped.”
He pushed the phone toward me.
“Dad…” I whispered weakly.
The silence on the other end was heavy.
“Claire?” my father asked, his voice suddenly tense. “Why are you crying?”
“They pushed me,” I said. “Margaret shoved me. I fell. I’m bleeding… I think I lost the baby.”
For a moment there was no sound.
Then the voice returned—no longer just a father’s voice.
It was authority itself.
“Thomas Whitmore,” he said slowly.
“Yes…?”
“This is William Carter, Chief Justice of the United States Supreme Court.”
Thomas froze.
The color drained from his face.
“I… what?”
“You harmed my daughter,” my father said coldly. “And my grandchild.”
“It was an accident!” Thomas shouted. “She slipped!”
“You will not move,” my father continued. “You will not touch her again. Federal officers are already on their way.”