Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby
Chapter 127: Welcome to India

Chapter 127: Welcome to India

The day flew by faster than Eleanor had anticipated. After dropping Freya off at school, she headed straight to the office. As soon as she stepped through the main doors, she found Juliette Blanc already waiting for her.

"Good morning, Elder Juliette," Eleanor greeted her with a nod and a warm smile.

"Good morning, Boss. I was waiting for you," Juliette replied, standing as Eleanor approached.

With pleasantries exchanged, Eleanor led her to her private office at top floor and gestured for her to sit across from her desk. She poured herself a cup of tea and leaned back slightly, ready to listen.

Juliette didn’t waste time. "I’ve finalized the plan," she began, unfolding two sheets of paper and placing them on the desk. "We need to save a total of thirteen individuals from the list. In total, we’ve compiled evidence against fifty-seven people, all of which could guarantee them a minimum of three years to a maximum of life imprisonment."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "And the thirteen?"

"They are the ones who could be useful to us politically," Juliette explained. "If we ensure their safety and loyalty, the rest... forty-four people... comprise members of the opposition, the ruling party, high-ranking officials, and influential businessmen. Most are politicians." She handed Eleanor the two pages.

Eleanor took a moment to scan the first sheet, then shifted her attention to the list of thirteen. She read the names aloud, slowly: "Baron John Constantine, Lady Angela Dodson, Baron Ernest Prentice..." She continued down the list of MPs and frowned slightly as she reached the last three names... retired politicians with no current posts.

Juliette noticed her reaction. "Don’t be puzzled by those three," she said. "Though they’re retired and hold no official position anymore, their influence within the party is immense. They might not be active, but they can still make or break a candidate’s future. Oliver didn’t have business dealings with them, but somehow, he came into possession of their old sex tapes. I reviewed the footage myself. It’s clear these recordings were taken several years ago. I suspect he bought them to secure his position."

Eleanor’s gaze hardened. "And now we can use it for leverage."

"Exactly," Juliette nodded. "They won’t risk their reputations... not at their age. In fact, if they realize we’re backing Barron Anthony Hayward Chapman to become the next Prime Minister, they may even throw their support behind us."

"What about the other seven MPs?" Eleanor asked, setting the sheets down.

"They each represent critical constituencies," Juliette replied. "Their influence isn’t just local... it extends into national discussions. Other politicians rely on them, and they hold considerable sway in internal party decisions."

She paused, then added cautiously, "I also believe we shouldn’t let Oliver Brown be captured by the authorities."

Eleanor tilted her head. "Why not?"

"If he’s taken in officially, we lose control of him... and worse, the information he might still be hiding," Juliette replied. "We only searched his house. There could be safes, bank vaults, or secret locations where he’s stashed even more damaging evidence. If he’s desperate enough, he might leak everything. That could backfire on all of us."

Eleanor exhaled slowly, considering the consequences. "Then we capture him ourselves. Interrogate him thoroughly and then... eliminate the risk."

Juliette nodded grimly. "Yes. We need to send a message... not just to Oliver, but to everyone else... that loyalty to us guarantees protection. Betrayal leads to silence."

"Understood," Eleanor agreed. "But we need to wait until next week for the final move. I want to approach those thirteen individuals first and secure their cooperation. Once they’re assured, we can report the rest and initiate a public scandal. Before the authorities raid his home, we’ll have Oliver in our hands."

"Why wait that long?" Juliette asked, a touch of impatience in her voice. "We could move in a day or two."

"There’s a backer behind the Brown family," Eleanor said in a low voice. "A powerful one. Next week, that person will be out of the country... busy and distracted. That gives us the window we need."

Juliette leaned back in her chair, visibly surprised. "Even after all those names... he had a backer powerful enough to make you cautious. That’s impressive. And dangerous."

Eleanor nodded. "It’s not someone we need to worry about long-term, but I prefer clean executions. No loose ends."

For the next thirty minutes, the two women discussed logistics... available assets, surveillance deployment, digital tracking, safe house locations, and covert extraction routes. Once everything was confirmed, Juliette stood and left the office.

As she exited, Teresa and Maya entered. Both were eager to finalize preparations for Eleanor’s trip to India the next day.

"We’ve confirmed the itinerary," Maya said, handing her a folder. "Here’s the list of delegates, hotel arrangements, and meeting schedules."

Eleanor reviewed the file briefly. Then sent thie file to Sarika Somavati Harivamsa’s secretary to confirm next days meeting.

***

The following morning, Eleanor’s Gulfstream jet took off from Manchester Airport under a clear sky. With her were Maya, Sebastian, and Isadora. The aircraft glided over continents and oceans as they crossed time zones and terrain.

After a long nine-hour flight, the jet touched down at Agra Airport in India.

As Eleanor descended the metallic steps of her Gulfstream onto the sunlit tarmac of Agra Airport, a wave of warm, dry air brushed against her skin, carrying with it the faint scent of earth and blossoming marigolds. The horizon shimmered in the midday haze, and beyond the airport’s edge, the outline of ancient Mughal domes peeked through the haze like secrets from another time. The distant hum of life... car horns, temple bells, and murmurs of the city... reached her like echoes from a timeless world. Her designer heels clicked softly against the runway as her eyes caught the gleam of the Taj Mahal’s marble dome, far off in the distance, like a pearl anchored to the earth.

A tall Indian girl approached her, clasped her palms together in front of her chest, bowed slightly, and said, "Miss Eleanor Elizabeth Raynor, welcome to India."

She paused, then gestured toward a nearby hangar. "I am Tara Harivamsa. Our ride is this way. Please follow me."

Parked nearby in a private hangar, a sleek black helicopter waited, rotors still and silent, as if holding its breath for her command. Two uniformed attendants stood at attention, and the pilot, already seated, gave a respectful nod through the glass. Without a word, Eleanor walked across the wind-brushed tarmac, her scarf fluttering like a banner behind her. As she boarded the chopper, the turbines whirred to life, and in moments, she was rising above the city... Agra unfolding below her like a painted scroll, red sandstone forts and winding lanes basking in the golden glow of Indian sun.

After half an hour, the helicopter blades slowed with a whining hum, slicing the air one final time before settling into silence. Dust curled from the earth in lazy spirals as Eleanor stepped out onto the stone helipad, her heels meeting the cracked, sun-warmed surface. The heat of Mathura’s afternoon sun pressed down like a velvet weight, thick and shimmering, but she barely noticed. Her eyes were drawn to the weathered façade before her... Keshav Deo Temple, its ancient sandstone walls glowing golden under the sun’s gaze.

Faded yet dignified carvings adorned the outer walls, whispering stories of gods, wars, and timeless devotion. The temple exuded an energy unlike anything Eleanor had known... sacred and heavy, as if the very air remembered millennia of whispered prayers. The scent of incense wafted faintly through the air, mingling with the fragrance of marigolds strung across the temple gate.

Tara Harivamsa walked a few steps ahead, moving with practiced ease. Her long braid swayed with each step, and her white linen kurta fluttered lightly in the wind. "This way," she said softly over her shoulder, her voice nearly lost in the rustling of neem leaves nearby.

Eleanor followed her through the temple’s carved entryway, the cool stone beneath her feet a welcome contrast to the dusty heat outside. As they passed under arches darkened with age, murmurs of chants echoed faintly in the background, though no priest or devotee was visible. The main sanctum pulsed with silent reverence, its deity hidden behind a curtain that trembled as if breathing. The temple felt alive.

Tara led her through a narrow side corridor veiled with prayer cloths and hanging bells. The deeper they moved, the quieter it became, until even the chirping of birds seemed muffled. They stopped before a solid wooden door, carved with symbols Eleanor didn’t recognize... circles within circles, lined with lotus petals and an emblem of the moon above a flame. A subtle energy radiated from it, not quite threatening, but expectant.

Tara gave three measured knocks.

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room bathed in the warm glow of oil lamps. The air inside smelled of sandalwood, turmeric, and rose water... ancient, earthy, sacred.

The room was modest, yet rich in atmosphere. Scrolls were tucked into niches along the walls, and a large brass bowl in the center simmered gently with a pale mist. Cushions of deep crimson and gold lay scattered across a woolen carpet. At the far end sat a priestess, robed in indigo and silver, her hair streaked with grey, her eyes sharp and moon-bright.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.