Chapter 18 - The Eviction
|
The fallout was swift, brutal, and incredibly loud.
While Nathaniel and Erin sat in the quiet safety of the library, the grand foyer became a war zone. Caroline had finally emerged from the east wing, dragging a frantic, half-packed suitcase, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Her pristine white dress was stained with tears and makeup, her perfect hair wild and unraveled. She looked like a deranged ghost haunting her own ruined party.
“You can't do this to me!” Caroline shrieked as two massive security guards firmly but professionally guided her toward the front doors. The remaining guests watched in horrified, fascinated silence, cell phones discreetly recording the meltdown.
“Get your hands off me! I am the future Mrs. Whitmore!” she screamed, violently striking one of the guards with her heavy leather purse.
The guard didn't even flinch. He simply took the purse from her hand and continued walking her toward the idling black town car waiting in the circular driveway.
“Nathaniel!” Caroline wailed, staring at the closed doors of the library as she was forced outside. “You are going to regret this! They are going to kill my father! You hear me?! You are signing our death warrants!”
The heavy front doors of the estate closed with a definitive, booming thud, finally severing Caroline Sloan from the Whitmore empire forever.
Inside the library, the screams faded into a dull, distant memory.
Nathaniel walked over to the mahogany bar, poured a small glass of whiskey, and brought it to Erin, who was sitting on the leather sofa, still trembling slightly from the sheer magnitude of the morning's events.
“Drink,” he ordered softly, pressing the glass into her hand.
She took a sip, the burning liquid steadying her nerves. She looked up at him, the reality of what he had just sacrificed to protect her washing over her.
“You just humiliated the most powerful families in Boston,” Erin whispered. “The media is going to tear you apart tomorrow.”
“I don't care about the media,” Nathaniel said, sitting down on the coffee table directly in front of her, their knees almost touching. He looked at the small cut on her lip, his eyes darkening with protective fury again. “I only care that you are safe. And that my mother is safe.”
May you like
“What happens now?” Erin asked, searching his face.
“Now,” Nathaniel said, reaching out to gently take the whiskey glass from her hand, setting it aside, “I take you to the hospital to see your mother. And then, we figure out the rest of our lives.”
