William looked at the security officers staring at him in confusion. He couldn't understand why the alarm was triggered since he'd already stored all his weapons, including guns and knives, in his personal storage space before boarding his flight in Brazil. One of the guards pressed his earpiece, listening, then said to William, "Sorry, Mr. Devonshire, but we need to confirm whether the watch on your wrist has any offensive features."
"Damn it," William muttered, rolling his eyes as he remembered. He'd forgotten that the new watch Sunday had developed contained three memory-erasing needles. Reluctantly, he took off the modified Kingsman-style watch and handed it over.
The guards examined it thoroughly but found nothing suspicious and eventually returned it to him with an apology.
As he put the watch back on, William squinted at Michael Banning and said, "I guarantee this is my first time visiting the White Palace, and it'll definitely be my last."
"Sorry about that, Mr. Devonshire," Banning shrugged. "There's no avoiding it. Even I get checked every time I come in, and I'm the President's personal security."
"Let's go," William grumbled, glaring at Banning as they entered the waiting room outside the Oval Office. Standing by the door was a gray-haired man in his sixties. Seeing William and Banning approach, he smiled and stepped forward. "Hello, Mr. Devonshire. I'm Martin Walker, Chief of Security here at the White Palace. Please wait just a moment; the President is on a call with the Speaker."
After inviting William to sit, Martin pulled Banning aside and whispered, "You're supposed to be on leave with Leah while she's waiting to give birth. Why are you here?"
"I was with her," Banning replied with a grin, pulling a small gift box from his pocket and handing it to Martin. "But today's your birthday, and I wanted to give you this personally to thank you for all your guidance and support over the years. Thank you, Martin."
Martin held the box, surprised for a moment, then let a rare smile break through his serious expression. Shaking his head, he chuckled, "Thank you. I'd forgotten today was my birthday."
"Open it up; I hope you like it. Leah and I picked it out together. Also…" Banning hesitated before meeting Martin's gaze, "…Leah and I would be honored if you'd be our child's godfather."
As Martin started to open the gift, his eyes betrayed a flicker of sadness.
"Sorry about Kevin, Martin," Banning said apologetically, sensing the painful memories he'd stirred.
"It's alright; it's in the past," Martin replied, lifting out a commemorative plaque engraved with "Sarah Banning." Smiling, he said, "I love it, Michael. This is the best gift I've received in years. Thank you."
"I'm glad you like it. Does this mean you'll accept being the baby's godfather?" Banning's face lit up. "Leah will be thrilled when she hears."
"Who could say no to a newborn angel? Now, Michael, get back to the hospital and be there for Leah, and let me know the moment the baby arrives."
"Will do, Martin. Thanks." Banning gave Martin a grateful smile, then glanced over at William, who looked bored. "Martin, be mindful around Devonshire—he's got a long memory for slights."
"Ha," Martin said dismissively. "You forget I'm retiring in a few days. What that billionaire thinks doesn't concern me."
"True," Banning laughed, giving Martin a quick hug before turning to wave at William. "Take care, Mr. Devonshire. I'm off to the hospital."
"Goodbye," William replied from the couch, waving back. "Give my regards to your wife."
"Thanks, I will. Goodbye."
Watching Banning leave the room, Martin returned to his post by the door to the Oval Office.
After a few minutes, William, now bored, perked up his ears and started to eavesdrop on Benjamin Arthur's conversation inside. He quickly gathered that Arthur was on the phone with Speaker Eli, trying to gain support for his proposed gun control and military budget cuts. However, Eli seemed hesitant to risk offending the powerful defense industry lobby.
Suddenly, a loud explosion echoed from a short distance away.
"Damn it," William muttered, immediately moving to the window to see a plume of black smoke rising a few kilometers away from the White Palace.
"Damn it, damn it. I should have known better than to come here," he cursed under his breath.
Before he could react, a group of armed Secret Service agents rushed into the room. As they opened the door to the Oval Office, William caught sight of Benjamin Arthur's anxious and weary face.
Arthur, too, looked directly at William, noticing his expression of disgust. At that moment, Arthur couldn't help but recall William's remark that he was the unluckiest President ever. Before the agents could close the door, Arthur shouted, "Let William in—bring him in!"
Martin quickly stepped forward to caution him, "Mr. President, I must remind you that this is a high-security situation, and you can't risk contact with unauthorized individuals."
"No, no, no," Benjamin said, dismissing Martin's concern, and gestured for William. "Get in here, William, now!"
"No, no, no," William waved his hands in refusal. "I'm leaving. Damn it, Benjamin, you're a walking disaster. I'd have to be out of my mind to have followed Michael Banning here!"
"William, wait, please!" Arthur called out, desperate.
Ignoring him, William turned to leave the waiting room, and Arthur, seething with frustration, shouted, "Damn it, William Devonshire, you're a real bastard!"
Martin quickly ordered the agents, "Close the door, activate the room's bulletproof panels, and begin evacuating staff. Seal off the White Palace and establish a perimeter, then call in Marine One for evacuation by helicopter."
"Yes, sir."
William managed to leave the waiting room, but as he moved further down the corridor, he noticed through his heightened senses that people were being taken down one by one.
He stealthily approached a corner and cautiously peered around, spotting a dozen individuals dressed as workers. Two of them, armed with silenced pistols, were systematically neutralizing security guards.
After each guard was down, one of the attackers would pick up the guard's weapon and attach a silencer. Within minutes, all the intruders were armed.
These people moved with coordinated precision, and their stance and shooting techniques made it clear they were highly trained operatives.
William had no intention of getting into a gunfight. Using his heightened senses to avoid them, he quietly maneuvered through the corridors, changing direction several times, only to find every exit securely locked.
Just as he was about to ask Sunday to hack into the White Palace's servers to unlock the door in front of him, he sensed a small figure running toward him in a panic, trying to evade the attackers.
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