Chapter 8 - The Cavanaugh Brothers Draw the Line: "Touch Our Housekeeper, and Fairhaven Burns"
That evening, the four of us gathered in the manor’s grand study without our father’s knowledge.
Toby sat on the floor building a wooden tower, sensing the tension in the room, while Ethan paced back and forth near the roaring fireplace. Mason had four monitors set up across Julian’s massive mahogany desk, tracking satellite data, financial transactions, and private security frequencies.
“Victor Vance arrived in Fairhaven yesterday with three armed enforcers,” Mason explained, pointing at high-resolution images of a black SUV parked outside a motel near the docks. “He thinks Eleanor is isolated here because our father is rarely home.”
“We call father’s personal security militia,” Ethan suggested, his fists clenched. “Father has forty armed men stationed at the commercial terminal.”
“No,” I replied darkly. “If father finds out Vance is tracking Eleanor, he won’t protect her. He’ll fire her on the spot to eliminate any liability to the Cavanaugh name. We handle this ourselves.”
“How?” Ethan asked. “We’re kids, Lucas.”
“We’re Cavanaughs,” I said, looking at each of my brothers. “Mason, lock down the manor’s perimeter. Turn on the thermal perimeter sensors, activate the heavy gate locks, and cut all outside Wi-Fi access except our encrypted channel. Ethan, make sure all the ground-floor storm shutters are bolted down.”
Suddenly, the red alert light on Mason’s console flashed violently.
A loud chime echoed through the study. On the main screen, the live camera feed at the main iron gates showed a black SUV ramming through the security barrier, snapping the wooden gate arm like a twig and speeding up the long gravel driveway.
“They’re here,” Mason whispered, his face pale.
Eleanor rushed into the study from the kitchen, her face drained of color. “Lucas! I heard the alarm! You boys need to get into the safe room in the basement right now!”
“We’re not hiding, Eleanor,” I said calmly.
I walked over to the antique cabinet beside the fireplace, pulled open the concealed drawer, and retrieved my father’s ceremonial heavy baseball bat—solid ash wood reinforced with steel. Ethan grabbed a heavy brass fireplace poker, while Mason locked the steel security doors leading to the upper residential wing where Toby was placed.
Headlights swept across the frosted windows of the front foyer. The heavy tires of the SUV ground against the gravel outside.
A loud, thunderous banging shook the heavy front double doors of Fairhaven Manor.
“Eleanor!” a rough, menacing voice shouted from the porch outside. “Open the door, little bird! Or I’ll burn this rich man’s house to the ground with you inside!”
I placed my hand on Eleanor’s shoulder. She was trembling, but when she looked into my eyes, she saw no hesitation.
“Stay behind us,” I told her.
I unlocked the heavy deadbolts and swung the grand oak door wide open.
Standing on the porch was Victor Vance—a scarred, burly man in a heavy leather coat, accompanied by two menacing thugs holding crowbars. Vance grinned maliciously when he saw me, expecting a terrified teenager.
“Get out of the way, rich boy,” Vance sneered, stepping toward the threshold. “I’m here for the girl.”
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I didn’t step back an inch. I rested the heavy bat on my shoulder, looking him dead in the eyes with the cold, ruthless demeanor of my bloodline.
“You’re trespassing on Cavanaugh land,” I said in a low, dangerous growl. “And you’re looking at the wrong woman. If you take one more step onto this porch, you won’t leave Fairhaven alive.”
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