Urban System in America-Chapter 64 - 63: Scotch and Talk

At that same moment, across the city, far from the café and cozy ambience, the Whitmore estate loomed like a fortress.

A mansion of cold stone and towering windows perched on private land lined with manicured hedges, its interior echoing old money and quiet power.

The kind of home where silence held more weight than conversation, and every object had generations of history behind it.

In the dimly lit study of the estate, Leonard Whitmore, tall, imposing, silver-haired but sharp-eyed, stood by the window, gazing out at the distant city skyline. The room was silent, save for the faint ticking of an antique clock.

Suddenly, The heavy door creaked open, and Logan Whitmore hesitantly entered.

Leonard Whitmore, patriarch of the Whitmore family, didn’t turn when the door opened behind him. His gaze remained sharp, distant, dark.

"You’ve been quiet, Logan."

Logan swallowed hard, stepping into the study like a student summoned for punishment. "Father..."

Leonard’s voice was calm. Too calm. "You know why I called you?"

"I... I-I don’t know..." Logan replied, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

Only then did Leonard glance over his shoulder, eyes falling on his son’s bandaged nose. His expression remained unreadable.

"You’ve heard about your uncle, haven’t you?" he said, his expression turning cold.

Hesitating, Logan gave a slow, nervous nod. "I-I know."

Leonard’s eyes narrowed slightly. "So, tell me who do you think is behind all of this?"

Logan hesitated before answering. "I-I think it’s... Rex Lee."

Leonard didn’t react. He turned to the liquor cabinet, retrieved a bottle of premium scotch encased in elegant packaging, and poured himself a glass. Logan remained frozen, barely daring to breathe.

Logan stood stiffly, not daring to even breathe loudly.

A few ice cubes clinked into the glass from the mini-fridgeTaking a sip, he finally spoke, his expression stern.

"So, you believe this Rex is behind the exposure of your uncle’s indiscretions?"

Gulping, Logan nodded. His voice trembled slightly. "He’s the only one who had bad blood with Uncle Clement. It has to be him."

Leonard didn’t answer immediately. He swirled the scotch slowly, the amber liquid catching the light, studying Logan with an unreadable expression.

Logan didn’t dare meet his eyes. He kept his head down, staring at the carpet.

"You really think this is something a student could do? Do you understand what was done to Clement? The files that were uncovered? The sheer precision of it?" Leonard said, tone calm but laced with disdain. "You really believe some kid with a grudge pulled that off?"

Logan faltered. "He’s smart. Maybe he—"

"Enough," Leonard cut in, his voice sharper now. "That boy is insignificant. A gnat."

Logan flinched slightly.

Leonard walked over to a sleek inbuilt cabinet. He poured himself more scotch, then looked back at Logan with narrowed eyes.

"I had someone investigate," Leonard said flatly. "A digital security firm. Off-books. One that works with state departments and military contractors—not the usual tech guys we use."

Logan’s eyes widened. "And?"

"They found nothing," Leonard replied, turning away. "Nothing. Not a single trace. No IP shadows. No metadata. No altered logs. It was as if the files didn’t exist until the moment they were released. And then—poof. Gone."

He let the silence stretch.

"That level of precision," Leonard said slowly, "that kind of erasure, is not something you learn from YouTube tutorials or a computer science degree. That’s done by someone trained. Someone who’s more than just a hacker."

He turned fully to face Logan now, voice lowering.

"People like that—Logan—they’re strategic resources. Ghosts. Weapons. Countries don’t send tanks into battle anymore. They send people like this. People who can bring down economies with a keyboard. People who can erase bank records, alter military orders, erase identities, and fake entire digital histories. And they never show up on the radar."

Logan blinked. "So you’re saying... a government was behind this?"

"I’m saying," Leonard said, "whoever was behind this isn’t operating alone. Someone that skilled isn’t just wandering around helping kids expose corrupt professors. That kind of person is always... tethered. Funded. Protected. Deployed."

"Whoever did this," Leonard continued, "got everything. Clement’s private videos. Bribe ledgers. Grade tampering. Message logs. Financial irregularities spanning years. All of it."

Logan gritted his teeth. "Then who—?"

"I don’t know," Leonard sighed, pacing back to the liquor cabinet. "But I know what it isn’t. It isn’t some brat with a grudge. You think I haven’t had people look into him? He’s ordinary. Rich? Maybe. Sharp? Possibly. But he’s not a threat. Not *this* kind of threat."

He poured another drink, eyes narrowing. "This was surgical. Professional. Done by someone with access to elite-level systems, systems most people don’t even know exist, knowledge to avoid tripping any security lines. And the fact that only Clement’s dirt got out?" He took a long sip. "That was intentional."

Logan’s voice trembled. "But... Uncle Clement’s done a lot of dirty things. The stuff about sleeping with students, taking bribes, even blackmailing some girls into—"

"I know."

Leonard cut him off sharply. "And I don’t care."

Logan stared at him in shock.

Leonard’s voice dropped lower. "That filth is his problem. I warned him long ago to clean up. But he got greedy. And sloppy."

He stepped closer to Logan, eyes deadly serious.

"We should be grateful they *only* leaked this much. If whoever did this had found the other files—the ones involving our true backer—your uncle wouldn’t just be facing prison. He’d be dead."

Logan’s blood ran cold.

"You mean the—"

Leonard held up a hand. "Don’t ask. And don’t ever mention it again." He warned him sternly. "Our family might be powerful in the real estate world, but the one backing him?" His eyes drifted back to the window. "That man funds entire departments at UCLA. His reach makes us look like ants."

Logan exhaled shakily. "So... what do we do now?"

"For now?" Leonard said grimly. "We do nothing. We keep our heads down. Someone is targeting us. Someone with precision and power. We don’t know their motive, or how far they’ll go. So, all we can do is wait."

He took another slow sip of scotch.

Logan was stunned. He really hadn’t thought it was this big deal.

But then, in the depths of his thoughts, that smirking face, that bastard, flashed before him.

Clenching his fist, eyes burning with hatred, he spoke.

Clenching his fists, he growled, eyes burning, "But what about that bastard? Are we just going to let him walk away?"

(End of Chapter)