Chapter 5
The cinematic, bright daylight pouring through the grand windows seemed to act as a spotlight on the ugly truth that was about to be exposed. Robert, still gasping for air on the floor, suddenly froze. Despite the pain in his face and the cake smeared across his chest, genuine panic flashed in his eyes.
"Thomas, shut your mouth," Robert wheezed, struggling to push himself up on his elbows. His American accent was thick with blood and desperation. "Don't you dare."
"Why not, Robert? Since you enjoy treating my children like indentured servants, let's talk about who really holds the purse strings in this family," Thomas said, his posture radiating absolute dominance. He turned to face the crowd of relatives, making sure his voice was clear and undeniable.
"Five years ago, Robert made a series of catastrophic investments in commercial real estate," Thomas announced, watching the rosy cheeks of his aunts and uncles turn pale. "He lost the family business. He lost the savings. He lost this very estate to the bank."
"He's lying!" Helen shrieked, her voice cracking. "Do not listen to him! He is a delusional, violent failure!"
"If I am a failure, Helen, then how did you afford the caterers today?" Thomas challenged, stepping closer to her, forcing her to shrink back. "How did you afford the silk blouse you are wearing? Because the man you call a common laborer owns the largest construction and development firm in the tri-state area. I wear a work shirt because I actually build things, instead of gambling them away."
A stunned murmur rippled through the crowd. The guests looked at Thomas’s sturdy clothes, then at the opulence of the room, piecing together the reality of the situation.
"I bought this estate back from the bank in my name," Thomas continued, his voice relentless and cold. "I paid off Robert’s debts to keep him out of federal prison. I allowed you both to live in the main house, to keep your precious social standing, on the single condition that you treated my family with respect."
Thomas paused, looking down at the three small aprons discarded on the floor. His jaw tightened, the muscles ticking visibly beneath his fair skin.
"And instead of gratitude," Thomas said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, lethal whisper, "you forced my three-year-old son to carry a silver tray for your amusement. You mocked the absence of their mother. You humiliated the only people in this world that I care about."
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"Thomas, please," Robert begged from the floor, his arrogance entirely shattered by the public exposure of his financial ruin. "We were just... we were just trying to teach them discipline. We thought we were helping."
"You thought you were punishing me for being more successful than you," Thomas corrected ruthlessly. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out his cell phone, the bright screen illuminating his face. "But the charity ends today. You wanted to know who paid for this party? I did. And now, the party is officially over."
