Chapter 5 - The Sabotage and the Truth
By Saturday morning, the atmosphere in the Whitmore estate had fundamentally shifted.
Warren was resting in his room, his condition stable. Julian had canceled all his corporate conference calls, staying at the estate. He no longer walked around with his tablet or checked receipts. He spent the morning sitting silently in the hallway outside his father's room, watching over him like a nervous guardian.
Grace prepared a light, nourishing meal for Warren—a delicate chicken broth with homemade egg noodles and steamed vegetables.
When she walked up to the second floor carrying the tray, she found Julian standing outside the door.
"Is he awake?" Grace asked softly.
Julian looked at her, a subtle, soft warmth in his gray eyes that hadn't been there before. "He just woke up. Dr. Harrison said he can have light food."
Julian looked at the tray in her hands, then took a deep breath. "May I... may I come in with you?"
Grace smiled gently. "I think that's the best medicine he could ask for."
Together, they stepped into the master bedroom.
Warren was sitting up in his large four-poster bed, looking frail but alert. When he saw Grace enter, his face relaxed. But when he saw Julian stepping in behind her, his posture stiffened slightly.
"Father," Julian said, his voice quiet, stripped of all arrogance. "How are you feeling?"
Warren looked away toward the window. "I'm fine. The doctor is overly dramatic."
Grace set the tray down on the bedside table. "Eat your soup, Mr. Whitmore. Julian helped prep the vegetables this morning."
Warren blinked in surprise, glancing at his son. "He did?"
"I cut the carrots," Julian said, stepping closer to the bed, his hands nervous in his pockets. "I... I cut them unevenly, but Miss Miller corrected my technique."
A faint, almost invisible twitch touched the corner of Warren’s mouth. "He always was terrible with his hands. Couldn't draw a straight line to save his life."
"Father," Julian said, taking a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly. "I... I canceled the land transfer contract this morning. The cottage in Bar Harbor is not being sold."
Warren turned his head quickly, staring at his son in utter disbelief. "What?"
Julian took a chair from the corner, pulled it up to the bedside, and sat down. He looked his father straight in the eye, dropping all defenses.
"I called the legal team at seven AM," Julian said softly. "The property is staying in the family. In fact... I hired a local preservation team in Maine to restore Mother's garden this spring. I thought... maybe we could go there together in July."
Warren’s eyes filled with sudden, overwhelming tears. He stared at his son, his lower lip trembling as the cold wall between them shattered into pieces.
"Julian..." Warren rasped, his voice breaking. "You... you want to go back?"
"I miss her too, Dad," Julian whispered, using the word Dad for the first time in ten years. "And I'm so sorry I wasn't there."
Warren reached out his frail, trembling hand. Julian reached out and grabbed it, holding his father's hand tightly as tears spilled over both their faces.
Grace quietly backed out of the room, closing the door softly, leaving father and son to heal three years of unspoken pain.
However, the peace was short-lived.
At three o'clock that afternoon, a sleek black town car pulled up the estate driveway.
Out stepped Arthur Vance, the senior vice president of Whitmore Global Logistics and Julian’s second-in-command. He was a sharp, calculating man in his late fifties, carrying a thick leather briefcase and an expression of extreme anxiety.
Arthur Vance marched straight into the house, demanding to see Julian immediately.
Grace was in the kitchen preparing afternoon tea when Julian and Arthur Vance entered the study down the hall. Their voices, initially muted, quickly grew heated.
"Julian, this is madness!" Arthur Vance’s voice boomed through the open door of the study. "You can't cancel the Maine property sale! The buyers have already wired the earnest deposit into our holding account!"
"I don't care about the deposit, Vance!" Julian’s voice replied firmly. "I am the CEO. The property is withdrawn from the market. Issue a full refund immediately."
"It's not that simple!" Vance shouted, his tone turning desperate and sharp. "The European expansion relies on the liquidity from that real estate portfolio! If we don't close this deal by Monday, the audit committee is going to review the entire land allocation ledger!"
Grace, who was carrying a tray of tea toward the study, paused outside the door. Her sharp ears caught the word ledger.
"Why would you care about the audit committee, Vance?" Julian asked, his voice suddenly dropping into a dangerous, suspicious register. "The land portfolio is fully solvent. Unless... there’s something in the ledger that shouldn't be there?"
"I... I am simply protecting company interests!" Vance stammered nervously.
"No, you're not," Julian said coldly. Grace heard the sound of papers being shuffled frantically. "I looked at the transfer account details this morning, Vance. The buying entity for the Maine property isn't a European logistics firm. It’s an offshore shell company registered in Grand Cayman under your wife's maiden name."
The study went dead silent.
"You've been under-valuing our family properties and selling them to yourself through shell companies for three years," Julian growled, his voice laced with lethal fury. "You lied to me about the market values. You manipulated my father's depression to force these sales!"
"Julian, listen to me—" Vance panicked.
"Get out!" Julian roared. "Security will meet you at the corporate office on Monday. You are fired, Vance. And I am filing criminal fraud charges with the federal prosecutor before nightfall!"
Arthur Vance burst out of the study, his face red with rage and terror. He almost collided with Grace in the hallway, glaring at her with venomous eyes before rushing out the front doors into his car.
Julian stepped out of the study, his breathing heavy, his face tight with anger. But when he saw Grace standing there with the tea tray, his expression immediately softened.
He walked over to her, taking a deep, steadying breath.
"It's over," Julian said softly. "The man who was trying to tear my family's legacy apart is finished."
Grace smiled warmly, setting the tray down on a side table. "You did the right thing, Julian."
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Julian looked at her—at her warm brown eyes, her steady, gentle presence, and the incredible light she had brought into his dark world. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair behind her ear.
"I couldn't have done it without you, Grace," Julian whispered sincerely. "You saved my father. And you saved me."
