Noah's Quest - 19. A Press Conference and Pyrotechnics

I stood frozen in the penthouse living room, my jaw practically glued to the floor as I watched the live broadcast on the TV.

“Maryland Governor reported missing, and massive evidence is mounting regarding a deeply dark past,” the news anchor reported grimly.

“A dark past? In politics?” the co-anchor joked dryly. “Color me shocked.”

“Preston Parks—personal attorney to Governor Jack Parker, as well as the Maryland Attorney General—are expected to make a joint press statement this morning.”

The screen flashed through archived footage of federal agents raiding the high-rise condo, followed by live chopper shots of the Governor’s Mansion being searched top to bottom.

“Where’s Chase?” I asked suddenly, whipping my head around to look at Little B.

“Grandma,” Little B began to answer, but before he could finish, Grandma materialized right behind him, stepping out of thin air.

“He is supervising the federal team searching the Governor’s Mansion to make sure everything stays strictly above board,” Grandma explained calmly. “There are multiple federal agencies on-site, and multiple agencies watching them.”

I hesitated for a second. “Grandma... you run a private security contractor agency. Why are you personally involved in a state manhunt?”

Grandma looked at me as if I had just deeply insulted her intelligence. “Noah, my firm contracts out specialized tactical support to federal agencies. I was explicitly asked to assist with leading this multi-agency investigation. Now, if you’d rather let Jack skate away scott-free, I can make a phone call and step down.”

“I was just curious!” I defended myself, throwing my hands up in the air before dramatically plopping backward into an armchair.

“Noah, our family has been heavily embedded in government operations for centuries,” Grandma continued, softening her tone. “The level of trust our name commands remains absolute, regardless of who is sitting in the Oval Office. While your Uncle Nathan has taken over day-to-day operations of our commercial ventures, I have been closely observing the next generation to choose my eventual successor.”

I grinned, pointing a finger. “I think Little B should take over.”

I watched Little B closely for a reaction, but he was entirely hypnotized by the television screen.

“I didn’t say I wanted to burn the entire world to the ground, Noah,” Grandma laughed.

“S’mores for everyone!” I joked.

That single word instantly broke Little B’s trance. He whipped his head around. “S'mores? From the fire pit?”

“I don’t see a smoking BMW in the street,” Grandma responded deadpan, before breaking into a wide, musical laugh. “On that note, by the way... I spoke to Frank this morning regarding the cause of that driveway fire.”

Little B instantly sank six inches lower into his chair, trying his absolute hardest to become invisible.

“It was officially ruled accidental,” Grandma continued, keeping her eyes locked on the boy. “Turns out Parker had custom electrical modifications done professionally, didn't like how they looked, and tried to rewire them himself. A wire wasn’t connected properly, and somehow it sparked and instantly incinerated the car.”

Grandma stared hard at Little B. “You didn't get caught this time. But it better never happen again.”

Grandpa casually stepped out from the hallway. “Well, if you ever want to get into advanced pyrotechnics, kiddo, your grandmother is an absolute master at blowing things up,” he said with a heavy, deliberate wink.

“Ew, Grandpa!” I groaned, immediately picking up on the double meaning. “Gross!”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Noah,” Grandpa laughed, while Grandma joined in with a snort.

The weather outside was crisp and gorgeous, so Grandpa suggested we ditch the news and go enjoy the city. Grandma agreed, but with one condition: she insisted we wait until after the morning press conference—and she had a wickedly dangerous smile plastered across her face while she said it.

Promptly at 10:00 AM, the live broadcast resumed. The Attorney General took the podium, announcing that the Lieutenant Governor had officially stepped into the role while the state constitution was reviewed. He stopped short of calling Jack a fugitive, but the sheer disdain in his voice was palpable.

When he finished, Preston Parks slithered up to the microphone. “Good morning. I am Governor Parker’s personal attorney, Preston Parks—”

I furrowed my brow, confused. I knew Preston and Jack were related, but Jack kept constantly altering his legal name and shell corporations to stay under the radar. Clearly, he hadn't strayed far enough from his roots.

Suddenly, a loud, chaotic commotion erupted in the background behind the press corps.

“Preston Parker Parks the Fourth!” a deep, authoritative voice bellowed across the auditorium.

Preston froze mid-sentence, looking wildly around the stage in panic.

“Would you please step away from the microphone?” the voice commanded. Sheer terror began to crawl across Preston’s face.

I looked over at Grandma. She was smiling so wide her cheeks looked like they might hurt. Of course she had orchestrated this—she was arresting the man live on national television in front of every major news network.

“When I finish my official press conference—” Preston stammered, before his microphone was violently cut off.

The camera feeds abruptly panned away to a wide shot of the auditorium exterior, but swung right back just in time to catch Preston physically swinging at federal marshals and FBI agents.

Every single network cut immediately to commercial break.

“Well. That was certainly something,” I said to no one in particular.

I blinked, and noticed Little B had reappeared sitting cross-legged on his chair. My eyes went wide. What did he just do?

The answer flashed across the screen a second later. As the news chopper panned over the city streets to follow the arrest, a brand-new Mercedes could be seen exploding into a raging fireball in the distance. I laughed internally, glancing over at my grandparents, whose jaws were now hanging wide open in genuine shock.

“S’mores, anyone?” Little B asked innocently, flashing a wicked little smirk.

“Brody...” Grandpa sighed, though there was zero conviction behind his voice.

“I think we need to get some fresh air immediately,” Grandma said, checking her watch and shooting Grandpa a pointed look.

“Yes,” he agreed, instantly checking his own watch. “Let’s hit the city.”

As we strolled through the sun-dappled paths of Central Park, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to find a text from Damian:

Damian: Shiloh is on a total warpath. He’s convinced you somehow got Mr. Parks arrested.

Noah: How on earth would I do that?

Damian: I don't know, but he’s losing his mind and blaming you for everything.

I tucked my phone back into my pocket, shaking my head.

Grandpa noticed the shift in my mood and slung a heavy, comforting arm around my shoulders. “What is it, kiddo? Young love drama?”

“No. Apparently Shiloh and Parker are convinced I pulled the strings to get Mr. Parks arrested on live TV.”

Grandma stopped dead in her tracks on the park path. “They what?”

I quickly filled her in on Damian’s text. A dark, terrifying aura of pure fury began to build visibly around her.

We kept walking and eventually stopped at a shaded vendor cart for lunch. Grandma kept nervously glancing down at her phone whenever she thought we weren't looking.

“Honey, you aren't being very discrete,” Grandpa chuckled, stealing a fry off my plate.

Grandma looked up sheepishly, sighed, and slid her phone across the table to him. I watched Grandpa’s face as he read the screen, his expression dropping into sheer horror.

“Silas just showed up,” Grandpa muttered, his voice tightening.

A heavy wave of dread washed over Grandma’s face. Across the table, Little B and I both burst into quiet chuckles.

“Honestly, I would have paid a million dollars to be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” I whispered between bites of my sandwich.

“I seriously wonder how the Elders are going to handle this mess, seeing as Parker was never properly vetted by the council,” Grandpa fretted.

“Vetted?” I asked, tilting my head.

Grandma sighed, throwing Grandpa a sharp look. “When ghosts or supernatural abilities are publicly exposed, there is a strict protocol to ensure identities are shielded. It sounds like my own son didn’t do his job.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Little B said brightly.

Before any of us could even blink, the kid vanished into thin air.

“Well. That is never a good sign,” I said, looking between them.

“You better go after him,” Grandpa urged, while Grandma instantly vanished in a flash of light. “Little B is going to give your grandmother a run for her money.”

Grandpa and I finished our lunch in peace, taking a leisurely stroll through the park before catching the subway over to the famous Big Gay Ice Cream shop for a treat.

As we walked, I checked my phone again. Still nothing from Chase. I knew he was buried in federal debriefings, but man, I really missed him.

“We probably need to head back,” Grandpa said, checking his watch as the sun began to dip. “Just... don’t tell Grandma that I let you ruin your dinner with dessert, okay?” He winked.

We made our way back to the family tower. When the elevator stopped a few floors early, Grandpa smiled. “I need to pop downstairs and grab a package for Grandma. You go on up ahead.”

I swiped my key card, stepped off the private elevator into the penthouse foyer, and unlocked the front door.

I pushed it open, stepping into the quiet entryway—and froze dead in my tracks.

Standing right in the center of the living room, wearing his full, pristine Marine dress uniform, was Chase. He was surrounded by an ocean of romantic flowers and floating balloons, a brilliant, breathtaking smile lighting up his face.