Chapter 3 - The Gathering of the Wolves
The following Monday, the boardroom of Whitmore Global in the City of London was silent as Alexander reviewed the quarterly performance metrics. The executives around the glass table sat in rigid posture, waiting for the inevitable lashing that usually accompanied a microscopic drop in margin.
But Alexander’s mind was elsewhere.
He kept looking at the live feed on his private tablet, placed discreetly next to his ledger. In the high-definition frame, Iris was sitting on the nursery floor, stacking wooden blocks. Grace was sitting cross-legged next to her, laughing as Clara tried to place a toy crown on Grace's head. It was a scene of pure, domestic peace—something his corporate office had never known.
The glass doors of the boardroom swung open, interrupting the CFO's presentation.
Julian Whitmore, Alexander’s younger brother, strode into the room. Julian was the opposite of Alexander—flashy, charming, wearing a bespoke Italian suit that was slightly too tight, and a smile that never quite reached his eyes. He was the head of the company's European real estate division, a position he had held largely due to his surname rather than his competence.
"Apologies for the interruption, gentlemen," Julian said, though his tone was entirely unapologetic. He looked at his brother. "Alexander, we have an emergency. We need to speak privately."
Alexander didn't look up from his tablet. "If it’s about the Berlin development, Julian, you can present it to the board. If it’s personal, wait until the meeting is over."
"It’s about the family trust, Alexander," Julian said, his voice dropping to a theatrical whisper that still carried across the silent room. "And your... domestic arrangements."
Alexander slowly closed his tablet. He looked at his CFO. "Take a fifteen-minute recess."
The executives scrambled out of the room like rats fleeing a sinking ship, leaving the two brothers alone in the cavernous, glass-walled space.
"What is this, Julian?" Alexander asked, leaning back in his leather chair.
Julian walked over to the glass wall, looking out over the rain-slicked skyline of London. "Mother is furious, Alexander. She says you insulted her and Sarah. She says you protected a thief and dismissed our private security team."
"Your wife tried to frame a young woman by planting a replica bracelet in her coat," Alexander said, his voice dry. "I would say they got off lightly. I could have had Sarah arrested for filing a false report."
Julian turned around, his smile vanishing. "Sarah was trying to look out for your daughters! We all are. This girl, Grace... she’s an outsider. We know nothing about her. I did a deep dive into her background, Alexander. Her father was a bankrupt developer in Manchester who died in debt. She has no money, no pedigree, and her previous employer in Cheshire dismissed her under... mysterious circumstances."
Alexander’s eyes narrowed. "Mysterious circumstances?"
"A high-society family," Julian said, leaning over the table. "They claimed she got too close to the master of the house. Sound familiar? She’s a social climber, Alexander. She saw a grieving billionaire with a disabled child and realized she’d hit the jackpot. She’s manipulating you, using Iris’s condition to make herself indispensable."
Alexander felt a cold, familiar anger rising in his chest, but he kept his face perfectly still. "Is that all?"
"No," Julian said, pulling a document from his pocket and sliding it across the table. "This is a petition from the family trust board. Since you’ve chosen to compromise the safety of the estate by keeping an unverified staff member in a sensitive position, the board is exercising its right to review your status as the sole executor of the children's trust funds. Mother is backing it. If you don't dismiss this girl by Friday, we are filing for a formal audit of your personal life."
Alexander looked at the document. The Whitmore Family Trust was worth hundreds of millions, established by their father to ensure that the children’s medical and educational needs were met. But more than the money, the trust held the legal deeds to the Kensington mansion—the home where his daughters lived, the home where his late wife had spent her final days.
His family wasn't just trying to fire a nanny. They were trying to take his home, his children's security, and his control.
"You've been busy, Julian," Alexander said, his voice dangerously quiet.
"I’m just protecting the legacy, big brother," Julian said, patting his jacket. "Dismiss her. Let Mother hire a proper agency. It’s that simple."
"I will think about it," Alexander said.
Julian smiled, believing he had won. "Good. Friday, Alexander. Don't make us make this ugly."
As Julian walked out of the boardroom, Alexander opened his tablet again. He watched Grace hold Iris upright, guiding her tiny feet as they took a single, wobbly step forward.
May you like
Alexander’s hand tightened around his gold pen until the metal creaked.
"Elias," he said, speaking into his intercom. "I need you to run a background check on the previous employers of Grace Ellison in Cheshire. And I want to know exactly how much debt my brother Julian has accumulated in the London casinos this past year."
