Chapter 4 - The Fortress on the CoastBy eight o'clock the following morning, the blizzard had cleared, leaving the Vermont mountains covered in a blinding, pristine coat of snow.
A sleek, armored dark-grey helicopter bearing no markings touched down silently in a snow-covered clearing two miles down the lake road.
Julian’s private security detail—a squad of eight heavily armed, former special-forces operators led by a formidable, grey-haired man named Marcus—had arrived after receiving Julian’s encrypted emergency signal.
Marcus had taken one look at the scene inside the cabin—three dead assassins, a shattered window, and Julian standing beside a brave local woman—and had immediately executed absolute security protocols.
Within twenty minutes, Delia, Pippa, the three golden puppies, and a minimal bag of their clothes were loaded into the warmth of the helicopter.
As the blades roared overhead and the cabin faded into a small wooden speck amidst the vast white forest below, Pippa stared out the window in absolute awe. It was the first time she had ever been in an airplane.
“Where are we going, Mommy?” Pippa asked, her small hand holding tight to Delia’s.
Delia looked across the aisle at Julian.
He sat opposite them, wearing a clean charcoal coat provided by Marcus, an IV bag resting beside him to replenish his fluids. He looked tired, but his eyes were bright, watchful, and fixed entirely on Delia.
“We’re going to my estate in Rhode Island,” Julian answered for her, his voice soft and surprisingly gentle as he spoke to the little girl. “A place on the coast called Bellevue Keep. It has high walls, warm rooms, and a big garden for those puppies to run around in.”
“Is it safe?” Pippa asked innocently.
Julian’s lips curved into a quiet, firm smile. “It is the safest place in North America, little one. No bad men can reach us there.”
Two hours later, the helicopter descended over the rugged, breathtaking coastline of Newport, Rhode Island.
Perched atop a dark granite cliff overlooking the crashing waves of the Atlantic stood Bellevue Keep. It was a massive, historic stone manor surrounded by wrought-iron gates, security towers, and manicured grounds.
When they landed on the private pad, a team of personal medical staff rushed to assist Julian, but he waved them off with a stern hand until Delia and Pippa were safely inside the grand foyer.
The interior of Bellevue Keep was unlike anything Delia had ever seen.
High vaulted ceilings, roaring stone fireplaces, ancient Persian rugs, and priceless oil paintings lined the marble hallways. Yet, despite its immense wealth, the house was remarkably warm and welcoming.
A silver-haired housekeeper named Mrs. Gable greeted them with warm towels, fresh pastries, and hot chocolate for Pippa.
“Show Miss Hartwell and her daughter to the east wing suites,” Julian ordered Marcus as a doctor finally guided him toward his private medical room. “Assign four guards to their corridor. No one enters without my personal authorization.”
He stopped, turning his head to look back at Delia.
“Get some rest, Delia,” Julian said softly. “Tonight, we handle Thomas Mercer.”
For the rest of the day, Delia felt as though she were living in a dream.
Pippa was enchanted by the massive mansion. She spent the afternoon exploring the conservatory, eating delicious food prepared by the chef, and playing with the three puppies on the soft carpets. The puppies—whom Pippa had named Barnaby, Clover, and Pip—were already thriving, their golden fur soft and clean.
While Pippa napped in a four-poster bed fit for a princess, Delia sat by the tall leaded-glass window of her private suite, watching the grey waves crash against the granite cliffs below.
She looked down at her hands—the hands of a disgraced nurse who had spent years struggling to pay for firewood and asthma medication. Now she was sitting in a palace owned by one of the most powerful men in the country.
A knock sounded at her door.
Julian walked in. He had showered, his dark hair combed back, wearing a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. The color had returned to his face, though he moved with a slight stiffness from his bandaged flank.
“How is Pippa?” he asked gently, stepping into the room.
“She’s fast asleep,” Delia smiled softly. “She thinks she’s in a fairy tale castle.”
Julian walked over to the window, standing beside her, looking out at the sea. “And what do you think, Delia?”
Delia looked up at his sharp, handsome profile. “I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, Julian. Men like Thomas Mercer don't just go away because you flew to Rhode Island.”
Julian’s jaw tightened into iron. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thick leather bound ledger, laying it on the table between them.
“This is the master account book for Mercer’s illegal shipping operations,” Julian explained quietly. “While I was recovering today, Marcus intercepted Mercer’s private communications. Mercer has called an emergency meeting of the syndicate’s regional directors tonight at ten o'clock in Boston. He intends to declare himself the new Chairman of the Vance Syndicate, claiming I am dead.”
“What are you going to do?” Delia asked, her chest tightening with sudden fear for him.
Julian looked into her eyes, his grey eyes shining with a dark, triumphant light.
“I’m going to attend the meeting,” Julian said softly. “And I want you to come with me.”
May you like
Delia blinked in surprise. “Me? Why?”
“Because,” Julian said, reaching out and gently taking her hand in his, “Mercer didn't just try to kill me. He brought armed assassins into your home. He threatened your child. Tonight, Delia... I’m going to tear his empire down, and I want the woman who saved my life to watch justice be served.”
