Chapter 3 - Landing in the Storm
At 6:45 AM, Flight 178 touched down smoothly on the rain-slicked runway at London Heathrow Airport.
While the rest of the passengers waited for the doors to open, my security team—led by Marcus Vance (no relation to Julian), a six-foot-four former Royal Marines commando—was already waiting at the jet bridge exit.
"Good morning, Mr. Whitmore," Marcus said, stepping into the cabin to take my heavy carry-on bag while I strapped Sophie securely into her front-facing chest carrier. "We have three private vehicles waiting in the VIP arrivals lane."
"Marcus," I said, gesturing toward Maya, who was timidly hoisting her silver-taped backpack over her shoulder. "This is Maya Lin. Her safety is now our highest priority. I want a full executive protection detail assigned to her twenty-four hours a day until further notice."
Marcus bowed his head crisply. "Understood, sir."
As we walked down the jet bridge toward the private customs lounge, my personal assistant, Elena, hurried toward us holding a tablet displaying a litany of urgent news alerts.
"Mr. Whitmore, we have a situation," Elena said, her heels clicking rapidly on the marble floor. "Two hours ago, Vanguard Academic Solutions hosted an emergency press conference at the Royal Society in London."
I stopped in my tracks. "What did Julian do?"
Elena tapped the tablet screen, showing a live news feed.
On screen stood Dr. Julian Vance, wearing a tailored three-piece suit, standing behind a podium bearing the Whitmore Global Optimization logo.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Vance was saying to a crowd of reporters, "I am proud to announce that Vanguard Academic Solutions has officially solved the legendary Whitmore Optimization Problem. Our senior research director, Dr. Kenneth Pryce, completed the final proof last night. We are filing for international patent protection today and demanding the immediate release of the fifty-million-dollar commercial licensing rights."
Maya gasped, her face going chalk-white as she watched the broadcast. "That's... that's my work! Dr. Pryce was the administrator Vance brought to my school! He stole my rough drafts from the school server!"
I smiled—a cold, dangerous smile that my corporate competitors knew meant absolute war.
"Let him file his patent, Elena," I said smoothly, adjusting sleeping Sophie against my chest. "In fact, call the chairman of the International Patent Bureau and ask him to expedite Dr. Vance's application."
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Elena looked puzzled. "Sir? You want to help him?"
"A fraudulent patent isn't just a civil dispute, Elena," I replied, turning toward our waiting black sedan. "The moment Julian signs that patent application under penalty of perjury, he commits international fraud. We aren't going to stop his press conference. We're going to turn it into his execution."
