Nicholas's Story
Copyright© 2025 by writer 406
Chapter 39
Dr. Emily Sinclair watched with narrowed eyes as a green pickup truck turned off the county road and proceeded down the driveway of the neighboring property. The uninterrupted privacy the Sinclair family had enjoyed for three generations on their little corner of Bainbridge Island was over. Their sprawling fifty-acre estate, with its century-old orchard, private beach access and precious bit of old-growth forest, had been a summer home—first for her grandparents, then her parents, and now for her and the twins.
For decades, the neighboring acreage had remained an empty buffer against the development on the other side. Her parents as well as she had tried to purchase it no fewer than four times, but each time, the eccentric owner—a reclusive tech billionaire who, as far as she knew, had never once set foot on the land—politely declined her increasingly generous offers. Then, without warning, the property sold. Not to her, despite her long-standing offer. The news had arrived via email from her lawyer. Emily had been seething ever since.
She turned from the window, her reflection catching in the antique mirror on the wall. At thirty-two, Emily possessed beauty: high cheekbones, intelligent green eyes and thick auburn hair that fell in natural waves past her shoulders. The Sinclair genes had served her well, as they had her mother and grandmother before her. But while her mother had made beauty her currency, Emily had always viewed her appearance as an accident of fate—a genetic lottery win but unimportant in the long run. As far as she was concerned, looks meant little compared to the capabilities of her mind and hands.
Her office walls were lined with degrees and accolades: Harvard undergraduate at sixteen, Johns Hopkins Medical School, fellowships at the most prestigious institutions across the country. By twenty-five, she had pioneered a revolutionary technique for pediatric heart surgery that now bore her name. The “Sinclair Procedure” had saved thousands of children. By twenty-eight, she had established the Sinclair Children’s Medical Foundation, which provided cutting-edge medical care to children whose families couldn’t afford it. These were the accomplishments she valued. These were what defined her.
The sound of Tyler and Amy’s giggles floated up from the garden below. They were chasing each other around the ancient maple tree that dominated the back lawn. The twins had James’s eyes—a warm, kind shade of blue. They both had her temperament. Curiosity mixed with stubbornness mixed with fire.
The thought of her late husband sent a dull pang of sorrow. Four years a widow, and the grief still ambushed her when she least expected it. James had understood her in ways no one else ever had. He’d seen past the “ice queen” reputation she’d cultivated as armor in the ego driven male-dominated world of surgery. He’d treasured her ambition rather than being threatened by it, championing her work even as his own body betrayed him. When pancreatic cancer stole him from her with sudden, cruel efficiency, he’d made her promise to keep living fully, for herself and the twins. Some days, that promise was all that got her out of bed.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. “Emily?” Her assistant/nanny/friend, Susan Olsen, stood in the doorway. The older woman had been with the family since the twins were born and was one of the few people Emily genuinely trusted. “The school called. There’s been another incident with Amy.”
Emily sighed, reaching for her phone. “What happened this time?”
“She corrected her science teacher again. Apparently quite forcefully. The principal would like to speak with you.”
Of course, she did. The twins had inherited their mother’s intelligence and their father’s friendliness, but Amy had also inherited Emily’s impatience with incompetence. At nine, she was already reading high school biology textbooks and had little tolerance for simplified explanations that weren’t scientifically accurate. Tyler was just as smart, but ever since her husband’s passing, he had been quiet—too quiet for a formerly rambunctious little boy.
“Tell him I’ll call in thirty minutes,” Emily said, turning back to her computer. “And Susan? Please find out everything you can about the person who purchased the property next door. I want to know exactly what we’re dealing with.”
“Already ahead of you,” Susan replied with a knowing smile. “The buyer is a man named Nicholas Carter. He’s in his thirties and in construction, I understand. I googled him. He’s also a writer and apparently, was one of the youngest people ever to win a Pulitzer. He was in the news recently for making some sort of playground for the children of the Royals.”
Her fingers tightened around her pen until her knuckles whitened. Bainbridge Island was her refuge from the intensity of her work, the one place where she could let down her guard and simply be a mom to her children. The thought of strangers—of him—invading that space made something cold and hard settle in her chest. Emily Sinclair was not a woman accustomed to losing. She had faced every challenge life had thrown at her and emerged victorious. This Nicholas Carter had no idea what he was up against.
A week later, Emily was reviewing surgical notes in her home office when her phone buzzed with an email notification. Thomas Brennan, whose company had provided the Sinclair family with security for the past fifteen years, had completed his research on her new neighbor. She opened the file with the same methodical attention she brought to complex medical cases.
What she read over the next hour changed her understanding of Nicholas Carter.
Brennan’s report was characteristically thorough. A former secret service agent, he approached background investigations with the same precision he had once applied to protection challenges. The Sinclair family’s wealth and prominence had made them targets in the past. Brennan’s team’s vigilance had prevented several potential disasters over the years.
His assessment of Nicholas Carter began with standard biographical data, but quickly moved into territory that captured Emily’s full attention.
Subject: Nicholas Carter, age 31 Juvenile record: Sealed, but references in published work indicate three years in a juvenile corrections facility, ages 15-18. Eighteen months of that in solitary confinement. Education: GED, community college, University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign Holzbau Schweiz (Swiss master carpentry program) Publications: Three books, including Pulitzer Prize winner “The Excellence of Ordinary Things” latest work: The Worthy Endeavor: A Philosophy of Craftsmanship (best seller) Current status: Independent craftsman, recent client work includes European aristocracy, British royal family, David Chambers (number thirty on the Forbes list of richest.)
The report continued with details that grew increasingly intriguing:
SIGNIFICANT FINDING: Subject was personally vetted by MI5 and permitted extended residence at Northwood Hall estate to construct a treehouse for Lady Louise Spencer, cousin to Prince William. This represents extraordinary security clearance. British royal protection does not grant such access lightly, particularly involving proximity to the heirs to the throne.