“Would you like to see more.”
Noah took a small step forward.
I reacted instantly, pulling him back into my arms as Adrian rushed toward us, panic written across his face.
“They are escalating,” he said hoarsely. “This is my mother.”
I met his eyes, my resolve unshaken.
“Then we end this,” I said.
The days that followed unfolded like a carefully executed strategy.
Documents surfaced.
Communications were traced.
Financial irregularities—once hidden behind layers of shell corporations—began to emerge into the light.
Eleanor Whitmore’s empire had always relied on silence and fear.
Now, both were beginning to crumble.
