Chapter 6
The realization of their total financial and social ruin hung in the bright, crisp air of the grand hall. Helen stared at Thomas, her mouth opening and closing silently like a fish suffocating on dry land. The relatives, who just minutes ago had been laughing at the children, were now shifting uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact, desperately trying to distance themselves from Robert and Helen.
"You can't do this," Helen finally whispered, her voice stripped of all its former haughty superiority. "You can't just throw us out. Where will we go? We are your parents!"
"You should have thought about that before you put a servant's apron on my five-year-old daughter," Thomas replied coldly. He looked at the crowd of guests, his eyes hard and uncompromising. "Everyone who laughed at my children has exactly five minutes to leave my property. If you are still here when the police arrive, I will have you charged with trespassing."
Panic erupted. The wealthy, fair-skinned guests, eager to save their own reputations and avoid the wrath of the man who actually owned the estate, scrambled toward the coat check and the front doors. High heels clicked frantically against the marble floor. Within moments, the grand hall was rapidly emptying, leaving only the shattered crystal, the ruined cake, and the broken remnants of the Reed family hierarchy.
"Thomas, son, listen to me," Robert pleaded, finally managing to drag himself up into a sitting position against the wall. He wiped a mixture of blood and vanilla frosting from his eyes. "We can make this right. I'm sorry. I swear to you, we will never ask the children to lift a finger again. Just don't kick us out. I'm an old man!"
"You weren't too old to threaten a toddler," Thomas pointed out, entirely unmoved by the older man's pathetic tears. "You have thirty minutes to pack whatever fits into two suitcases. I am calling my security team right now. They will escort you off the premises."
"You are a monster!" Helen sobbed, falling to her knees beside her bleeding husband. "Your wife left you because she knew what you really were! She saw the violence in you!"
The mention of his wife struck Thomas like a physical blow. A shadow of profound, unhealed grief passed over his handsome face. He took a sharp breath, his hands balling into tight fists.
"My wife didn't leave me," Thomas said, his voice terrifyingly quiet, laced with a dangerous edge that made Helen instantly regret her words. "And if you ever speak of her again, I will make sure the life you live from this day forward is a waking nightmare."
He turned his back on them, effectively erasing their existence from his immediate concern. He knelt down on the pristine floor, completely ignoring the sticky soda and broken glass around him, and opened his arms to his children.
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"Come here, guys," Thomas said softly, his American accent returning to the warm, comforting tone of a devoted father.
Rebecca, Jacob, and Samuel didn't hesitate. They ran into his arms, burying their tear-stained, rosy faces into his sturdy work shirt, clinging to the absolute safety and protection of their father.
