Chapter 28 - The Storm Over Breakwater
Three days later, the private jet touched down once more in Boston, where a secure motorcade escorted Eleanor, Julian, and Nicholas through the wrought-iron gates of Breakwater.
The estate had never looked more magnificent. The Atlantic surf crashed rhythmically against the granite cliffs below, its roar no longer sounding like a battlefield, but like an ancient anthem welcoming its rightful owners home.
Inside the great hall, the staff had laid out a lavish celebration dinner. Thomas Sterling, already recovering his color and warmth, sat near the crackling fireplace, smiling proudly as Eleanor entered the room.
Nicholas stood near the arched French doors, a glass of Arthur Whitmore’s reserve bourbon in his hand. He looked out at the ocean, his bag already packed and sitting near the doorway.
Eleanor walked over to him, carrying two crystal glasses. "You're not staying for the victory banquet?"
Nicholas smiled, a rare, genuine warmth softening the rugged scars of his face. "I’m a creature of the deep water, Eleanor. Marble halls and Wall Street dinners make me itchy. Besides, the Atlantic is clean now. I have salvage contracts waiting for me in the Mediterranean."
He turned, clinking his glass against hers. "Arthur would be honored to call you his daughter, Eleanor. And frankly, I’m damn proud to call you my sister."
Eleanor felt a swell of deep emotion in her chest. For years, she had felt like an isolated sentinel guarding an empty castle. Now, she had a brother who had risked his life for her family name.
"Breakwater will always have an open berth for you, Nicholas," Eleanor said softly. "Whenever the water gets too rough."
Nicholas chuckled, setting his empty glass down. He looked past her to where Julian was standing near the fireplace, watching Eleanor with an expression of pure, unadulterated adoration.
"Take care of her, Vance," Nicholas said as he walked toward the door. "Or next time, I won't come with charters. I’ll come with torpedoes."
Julian offered a rare, respectful incline of his head. "She commands the fleet, Nicholas. I just sink the ships she points at."
May you like
With a nod, Nicholas slipped into the evening mist, disappearing into the legend from which he had emerged.
***
