Chapter 18 - Whitmore House Under Police Guard
Within thirty minutes, unmarked federal vehicles secured the perimeter of Whitmore House, turning the estate into an armed fortress.
State troopers and federal agents monitored the security gates, ensuring no unauthorized vehicles approached the historic stone driveway.
Inside the grand library, maps of Boston Harbor and encrypted satellite feeds glowed across the computer monitors.
“They won't send an army; they’ll send a ghost,” Margaret warned, tracing a finger across a blueprint of the mansion’s service tunnels.
“Let them come,” Naomi said, rolling up the sleeves of her gray uniform to reveal faint white scars across her forearms.
Ethan stood beside her, placing a heavy revolver on the mahogany desk next to a stack of ledger books.
“I’m not letting you fight alone this time,” Ethan said, his voice carrying the immovable weight of a Whitmore ancestor.
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“This isn't a board meeting, Ethan; these people don't negotiate,” Naomi cautioned, though a proud smile touched her lips.
“Neither do I,” he replied calmly, checking the cylinder of the firearm with steady hands.
