Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 127: Welcto 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. | 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 cinto

possession of their old sex tapes. | reviewed the footage myself. It’s clear these recordings were taken several

years ago. | 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 becthe next PrMinister, 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

net

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. | 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 | 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.

ork

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 tzones 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 blossomigg@argéiis. The

7

hprizonlshirhmered 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, welcto India."

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

——

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 nen

the plo pls ;gave a

rdspct ul 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. The

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After half an hour, the helicopter

blades slowed with a whining hum,

slicing the air one final tbefore

settling into silence. Dust curled from

the earth in lazy popes Elearior

S{eRRedo® dhfe the stone helipad,

her heels meeting the cracked,

sun-warmed surface. The heat of

i

Mathura'’s afternoon sun pressed

down like a velvet weight, thick and

shimmering, but she barely noticed.

Her eyes were drawn to the

weathered fagade before her...

Keshav Deo Temple, its ancient

sandstone walls glowing golden

, q

under the sun's gaze. The content is

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chapter there!

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 welccontrast

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.