“My daughter wants her out.”

“She is the help, Julian. You do not risk a shipping empire for the help.”

He pocketed his phone and pulled on his leather gloves, smoothing the leather over his knuckles slowly.

“I expect her bags to be on the driveway by midnight.”

“If they aren’t, the Coast Guard starts inspecting your inbound cargo at dawn.”

The threat was clear and immediate.

I knew what Julian’s cargo held, even if I had never seen it myself.

A full federal inspection would destroy everything he had built.

The Senator turned toward the heavy oak front door.

Before he could reach for the brass handle, Julian spoke.

“The permits are already signed for the winter quarter, Senator.”

Whitmore paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

He slowly turned back, a smug grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“They can be audited,” Whitmore said.

“An anonymous tip about safety violations is all it takes.”

He pulled open the door, letting a gust of freezing Lake Michigan air rush into the warm hallway.

The snow was falling faster now, swirling in the yellow glow of the porch lights.