2025-11-09 03:14:09
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Chapter 10
Security breach! I repeat, Whitehouse compromised!”“Secure the President!”“Find the first family, now!”Eric knew there and then that the bloody Vigilante had attacked. Bastards weren't patient enough to let him deliver the gold to them as agreed.Now, Security Service agents in black suits raced down marble corridors, shouting into radios as the presidential compound, once a fortress, was now a nest of chaos.Eric ran. “GET IN!”A voice called out from the shadow of a revving van, and without thinking, Eric lunged inside, slamming the door shut as the truck screeched off like it was late for a delivery.Behind the wheel was Quentin Tate. Face lit with fury and cigarettes. A baseball cap pulled low over her wild hair.The main gate to the Whitehouse began closing, but they were out before the steel gate clapped shut with a CLANG, and theysped off into the night.Eric finally spoke. “Why did you save me?”“Didn’t do it for you.”“Then why?”“Because I want you to die by my hands.” A
Chapter 9
Eric’s breathing was shallow, nearly silent. The steel lock glared at him, reinforced and encoded with dual biometric encryption. One wrong move, just one, and the internal alarm automatically alerts the Presidential Security Unit. He rolled back his sleeves, sweat lining his brow. He had already made two failed attempts and was now left with one last chance.His first attempt was rushed. The second is overly cautious. He had thirty seconds to analyse the tumblers. Else…He inserted the pick, closed his eyes, and listened.Click… pause… click… louder click.He adjusted the angle, holding his breath.Tiny mechanisms groaned inside the chamber as if protesting his intrusion. The sweat slid down his spine. Any louder, and they would echo through the hallway.He checked the timer on his watch.19 seconds left.“Come on,” he whispered. “Talk to me…”Click.Then silence, nothing moved.The red light blinked, and with one final push, he shifted the pick gently upward. And click, there was a
Chapter 8
Faraday roared again“Why is the chandelier in the First Lady’s chambers still half‑hanging, and you are still alive? You call yourself competent? Fix it now!” Eric turned to everyone in the room, who were now breathing hard from their laughter, picked up his tools and hurried down the hallway toward the First Lady’s wing. He knocked, then swung the door gently. Inside, at the centre, stood Carter Brooks, muscular, dangerous, and a face set as if he had escaped purgatory. Eric froze as the hulk of a man turned.“You again? Why do you show up every damn time I wannahave a good time?” Eric swallowed. “Sir, I was told to replace the chandelier; there was a complaint from Faraday.” “Unless you're here for any other motive, I see nothing wrong with this Chandelier.” Carter looked at the Chandelier while eyeing Eric.Hillary emerged from her bathroom smelling like holiness and hygiene. Her robe was half-open and her hair dishevelled in deliberate art. She folded her arms. “Carter,
Chapter 7
The gala had ended, and now everyone had moved to the gallery section of the Whitehouse. Lady Fredith leaned dramatically on her cane like it was her staff of office. “I never trusted that woman,” she said, loud enough for every aide and eavesdropper to hear. “That Hillary. The one my dear nephew married.”Eric Pason was quietly dusting a bookshelf, pretending not to listen, but his ears were wide open. The glint in Lady Fredith’s eyes meant trouble.President Tate chuckled awkwardly, adjusting his tie. “Aunt Fredith, Hillary’s been by my wife for years. She’s been nothing but supportive.”“Supportive?” Lady Fredith raised her brow like she was about to sneeze judgment. “Please, Richard. That woman couldn’t support a flower pot without letting it rot.”Raynor cleared his throat. “With all due respect, ma’am, the First Lady has proven her loyalty to the presidency, especially during international tours. She has presence.”“She has presence, yes,” Lady Fredith fired back, “just like sm
Chapter 6
The Whitehouse gala had begun.And now Mr Faraday, like a captain commanding a sinking ship, barked orders across to the staff.“Eric! For God’s sake, you useless twig of a man! Stop standing there like a monument, make yourself useful!”Eric turned, balancing the silver tray of champagne and ice as he carved his way through dancers.“Try not to trip over your own dignity this time,” he sneered, drawing chuckles from two junior staffers behind him. “If you had any.”Eric didn’t flinch; he simply walked past and made his way to the VIP section, where President Tate sat, perfectly postured in a black tuxedo, holding First Lady Hillary’s hand like they were high school sweethearts instead of two sneaky secrets-keeping couples.Clara Raynor was laughing intensely at DSS Malcolm's unfunny jokes, her hand securely wrapped around his. Oh, love, Eric hissed.Felicia Haywale gestured with her hands, to Raynor's amusement, while Hillary watched in disgust.Eric approached with his tray and bow
Chapter 5
5“Oh, didn’t expect to run into the Whitehouse stripper so early. I thought your kind vanished with the last scandal.”Hillary threw the first jab. Eric watched in amusement.Felicia smiled; her lipstick was perfect. “Well, you know me. Scandals keep me young.”“I suppose the cleaners forgot to disinfect the presidential quarters,” Hillary said coldly, eyes scanning Felicia’s neckline. “You must’ve sneaked out of his bed… As usual.”“At least someone’s keeping him warm. You’ve been rather… preoccupied, aren't you?” Felicia smirked.Hillary smiled wickedly. “Much better than being a hoe to someone who gives zero fucks about you.”Felicia laughed. “I would rather be worried about being neglected by my very own husband.”“At least I am married, not a bed warmer being called upon when I'm aroused.”Felicia scoffed. “Ohh… What do you call this? Marriage? I'd rather die single…”“And a Hoe”, Hillary spat.“My dear Hillary, you have just two options: either you share him or you get a divorc
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