Chapter 11 - The Siege of Fairhaven Manor
At 1:00 AM, Eleanor's dented blue sedan pulled up the long, winding gravel driveway of Fairhaven Manor.
The grand mansion was ablaze with lights. Four security sedans were parked near the entrance, and two armed guards stood near the heavy oak doors.
I stepped out of the passenger side, my body aching, my fists clenched. Eleanor stepped out beside me, her posture straight, her chin raised high.
"They won't let you inside," I warned her as we walked up the stone steps.
"They will try to stop me," Eleanor corrected. "That is not the same thing."
Marcus, the head of security, stepped out onto the porch, blocking the entrance with his massive frame. "Mr. Lucas, your father instructed that you be brought directly to his study. Miss Hargrove is barred from the grounds."
"Move, Marcus," I said, stepping in front of Eleanor.
"I have orders, son," Marcus said quietly.
Before I could answer, the front doors opened from the inside.
Caleb stood in the foyer, holding an iron fireplace poker in his hand. Behind him stood fifteen-year-old Leo holding a heavy brass candlestick, and twelve-year-old Toby carrying a baseball bat. Their faces were bruised, their eyes red with tears and rage, but they stood in formation like a young army.
"Let her in, Marcus," Caleb growled, his voice echoing across the courtyard. "Or you're going to have to fight all four of us."
Marcus looked at the four Cavanaugh brothers—boys who had spent three years tearing each other apart, now standing shoulder to shoulder in absolute unity behind a disgraced housekeeper.
Marcus slowly lowered his hands. He took a step back, opening the heavy oak doors.
"I don't get paid enough for this," Marcus muttered under his breath, signaling his guards to stand down.
Eleanor walked into the foyer of Fairhaven Manor, flanked by the four brothers she had saved.
At the top of the grand marble staircase stood Julian Cavanaugh.
My father was holding a glass of scotch. His eyes were cold, calculating, and filled with a dark, dangerous astonishment as he looked down at the mutiny unfolding in his hall.
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"You brought her back into my house," my father said, his voice dropping into a terrifying quiet.
"She didn't come back to your house, Dad," I shouted, my voice echoing off the vaulted ceilings. "She came back for us."
