The estate had settled into a deceptive quiet after the Mercers’ withdrawal, but Scarlett knew better than to trust the calm. Quiet in their world was only the stillness before another storm.
By mid-afternoon, clouds had gathered low and heavy over the ground. A faint drizzle dusted the windows, blurring the winter scenery outside. Inside, the Hawthorne family gathered in the strategy room—a space rarely used unless things were serious. The thick oak table was scattered with maps of the estate, security reports, and dossiers by key Mercer associates.
Daniel stood with his arms crossed, leaning over the table, eyes narrowed at a diagram of the main gate. Michael was pacing, his phone in hand, issuing clipped instructions to their security chief. Scarlett sat at the far end, her gaze fixed
