Chapter 37: Drone Crisis

The sky was clear, the clouds sparse, and the water shimmered under the midday sun. By the lake, the open lawn buzzed with life. Children flew kites, dogs tugged at leashes, and couples strolled lazily along the winding paths. Willow branches drooped over the shore, tipped with new spring leaves, and trees Alistair couldn’t name burst with white and blush-pink blossoms. The air smelled fresh and sweet—grass, petals, sunlight.

Eloise bounced along the rustic wooden bridge, holding Mabel’s hand and giggling with each step. Alistair followed Caroline at a measured pace, his expression relaxed, but every muscle in his body coiled tight. His senses were sharpened—ears tuned for disruption, eyes flicking over every shadow. It might have been spring, but the lake water was still freezing. If someone as sturdy as him fell in, he’d likely get sick. Mabel, elderly and fragile, would fare far worse.

Preston, that smug little opportunist, would he really risk her life to play hero?

There were people scattered along the lake’s edge—fishing, walking, chatting—but Alistair was certain Preston was somewhere nearby. If he wanted to swoop in at the perfect moment and save the day, he couldn’t be far.

Alistair’s gaze swept the scene. A man in a fisherman’s hat sat nearby, watching his line. Another young couple laughed and flirted beneath a blossoming tree. None of them screamed “Preston Vaughn,” but that didn’t matter. He’d never seen the man. Neither had Caroline—at least not well enough to recognize him. If I can’t pick him out, I’ll just keep watch. He won’t get the chance.

What Alistair couldn’t figure out was how Preston planned to pull it off. How could he push Mabel into the lake without raising suspicion? It had to be subtle, deniable, a freak accident… An out-of-control dog? A runaway kite? A sudden shove disguised as chaos?

Beside him, Caroline caught his constant scanning and tilted her head. “Are you bored?” He shook his head. “No. The view’s actually…really beautiful.” She hesitated, clearly wanting to say more, and then let it go. If he wasn’t ready to open up, she wasn’t going to pry.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was weighing on him. It’s going to take time. I knew that from the start.

Then Alistair caught movement. The man in the fisherman’s hat stood and began walking—straight toward them. Slowly and casually. That’s him. It has to be. The timing’s too perfect. Alistair’s instincts flared. The area was calm. No loose dogs. No kites. Mabel was still within his line of sight, and aside from standing too close to the edge, she wasn’t in any obvious danger. Yet.

Then a girl—small, waifish—started weaving her way toward the bridge, her gait loose and a bit odd. At this point, anyone or anything approaching the area was a potential threat in Alistair’s eyes. Why assume Mabel would fall because of some accident or distraction? What if it’s not about a dog or a kite at all? What if it’s a person—someone unstable, unpredictable? As long as it ended with Preston pulling Mabel out of the water and earning himself a debt of gratitude, it didn’t matter how she fell in.

Trailing behind the girl… was someone else.

Alistair’s eyes narrowed just as a low buzzing filled the air—faint at first, and then rising fast, from somewhere overhead. He looked up, and it hit him all at once. A drone. It dropped from the sky in a sharp, sudden descent, heading straight for Mabel.

Shit. That’s it. That’s how they’ll do it. If it hit her, she’d fall into the lake. And right on cue, Preston would “miraculously” arrive to pull her out—earning himself a permanent seat at the Ashbourne table.

The drone was nearly on her now. Mabel flinched, already stumbling back. Eloise squeaked, “Granny!” Alistair moved. One second he was watching, and the next he was flying across the grass. He reached them in two strides and yanked both Mabel and Eloise back just as the drone smacked into the lake, sending up a geyser of water. They landed hard but safe. Crisis averted.

And then, right on schedule, a man came tearing across the lawn like a sprinter at the Olympics. He was too late. But if Alistair’s instincts were right, he was Preston, the same man trailing behind the girl.

Alistair looked over, and their eyes met. The man’s face was a mess of panic and frustration. He didn’t even have time to hide it. Alistair had beaten him to the punch—and he knew it.

“Granny! Are you okay?” Eloise was shaking, but her first thought was still Mabel. “I’m alright, sweetheart,” Mabel whispered, brushing back Eloise’s curls. “Don’t cry.” Caroline knelt beside them, pulling her daughter into her arms. “Are you hurt?” “I’m fine,” Mabel said, stealing a glance at the lake. “Thanks to Alistair. Otherwise, I’d be out here giving the fish a bath—and at my age, I’m not sure I’d have made it back to dry land.”

Caroline finally allowed herself to breathe. If Mabel still had the spirit to make jokes, she really was okay.

“Are you alright, Madam Ashbourne?” It was the young man—Preston, presumably—approaching now, his voice polite, but Mabel’s expression turned cold the moment she saw him. “I’m fine.”

The mood had shifted. The drone had ruined everything. Eloise was shaken, and none of them wanted to stay. Caroline lifted Eloise, but she was heavier than she looked. Alistair stepped forward, holding out his arms. “Let me take her.”

Normally, Eloise clung to Caroline when upset. Sometimes, she even rejected Mabel. But today, she looked at Alistair and leaned toward him without hesitation. She wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled her chin on his shoulder, eyes closed, utterly calm. Mabel blinked in surprise. Well, I’ll be damned. Maybe it really has to be Alistair.

Not far off, Preston watched the scene, grinding his teeth. He’d spent so much time trying to get Eloise to like him. Everyone knew the way to Caroline’s heart was through her daughter. But no matter what he did, Eloise would flinch, duck, or flat-out ignore him. He’d convinced himself it was just her personality—shy, withdrawn, only responding to a few trusted people. That had given him hope.

Word was, Caroline had one non-negotiable when it came to choosing a partner—her daughter had to like him. If she doesn’t like anyone, then no one has the edge. Right? That just means I’ve got time.

Preston had thought he had time. Plenty of it. But then Caroline brought this man home. At first, he comforted himself with the idea that Eloise was equally distant with every guy who tried to get close to her mother. That she kept her distance no matter who it was. But this man—this complete nobody—had somehow made it past her defenses. Eloise had accepted him.

Panic clawed at him. The plan was unraveling. He stormed forward. “Madam Ashbourne!” Mabel stopped and turned. Preston hesitated, eyes darting away from Caroline’s. “I… I came to apologize.”

Caroline’s voice cut clean through him. “No need. Just don’t show up again.” Her face was unreadable, but her stunning beauty still hit like a punch to the chest. Preston’s face went pale. There was nothing but finality in her words. The sentence wasn’t just spoken—it was sealed.

Back at Ashbourne Manor, Alistair opened his mouth and then paused. He had to say something about Preston. Caroline beat him to it. “Honey, you think that drone incident wasn’t a coincidence, don’t you?” Talking to someone smart really did make life easier. He nodded. “Maybe I’m just being paranoid, but it all lined up a little too neatly. I just think…it’s better to be cautious.” Only then did it register—Caroline had called him honey.

Mabel, meanwhile, slammed her palm against the armrest of her chair. “It was no accident! I can’t believe I once thought that boy was ambitious and driven! Turns out he’s just reckless. First, he conspires with Agnes, and then I’m nearly turned into fish food!” She looked at Eloise, who sat quietly beside her. “If I’d gone under, fine. But if Eloise had fallen in too… God forbid.”

Caroline’s expression darkened. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.” Family—her real family—was her line in the sand. If Alistair hadn’t been there, if anything had happened to Mabel or Eloise… She would have killed someone.

“Let it go. You’ve got a full plate as it is,” Mabel said, glancing between her and Alistair. “You two just focus on being happy together.” She turned to Alistair. “You looked like you had something to say. Well, there are no strangers here. Speak freely.”

Alistair didn’t hold back. He told them everything Agnes had said—the cruel words she’d whispered to Eloise when no one was listening, words no child should ever have to hear. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how much fear that little girl must have carried, silently, night after night. He’d been meaning to tell Caroline for a while now—he just hadn’t found the right moment.

Caroline’s entire demeanor changed. The chill in her eyes turned lethal. “She what?” she hissed. “She dared say that to my daughter? I’ll make her pay for this.”

“Easy now,” Mabel said. “You’re not the type to go around killing people. That’s my job.” She called for Alban, her tone ice-cold. “Bring Crowley back. Now.”

Later that afternoon, despite Mabel’s attempts to keep them longer, Caroline brought Alistair and Eloise home.

When Julian heard what happened, his jaw dropped. “You’re just going to let that slide?”

Caroline’s eyes flicked toward Alistair. “My grandma’s handling it.” She remembered what Mabel had whispered to her before they left. “Caroline, try to be gentler, okay? Don’t go scaring Alistair off. He’s a sweet boy—kind, honest. If you bully him too much, he’ll break.”

Women were fickle—and if there was ever proof, it was Mabel. Her attitude toward Alistair could turn a million different directions in a single day. But somehow, by the end of it, she was always back on his side. Caroline didn’t mind at all.