Chapter 7
The bright, natural sunlight pouring through the massive windows provided a stark contrast to the dark emotional weight in the grand hall. Thomas held his three children tightly against his chest, closing his eyes as he absorbed their trembling breaths. The smell of spilled soda and sweet cake frosting filled the air, a bizarre backdrop to the profound relief washing over his kids.
"Are we really going to be safe now, Daddy?" four-year-old Jacob asked, his voice muffled against Thomas’s shoulder. "Grandpa said if we didn't scrub the floor perfectly, we wouldn't get dinner."
Thomas’s eyes snapped open, a fresh wave of cold fury surging through his veins, but he forced his voice to remain gentle and steady for the boy's sake.
"Grandpa is never going to tell you what to do ever again, Jacob," Thomas promised, pressing a firm kiss to the top of his son’s head. "Nobody in this world is allowed to treat you like that. You are my children. You are the most important things in my life."
"I was so tired, Daddy," three-year-old Samuel whimpered, his tiny hands clutching the fabric of Thomas’s work shirt. "The tray was so heavy, and my arms were hurting."
"I know, buddy. I know," Thomas murmured, rubbing the little boy’s back soothingly. "You never have to carry anything like that again. I am so sorry I wasn't here sooner."
"It's not your fault, Daddy," five-year-old Rebecca said, pulling back slightly to look at him with her large, innocent eyes. Her fair, rosy cheeks were still damp with tears, but a fierce, protective glint mirrored her father's expression. "You were working hard to build houses. Grandma said you were a loser, but I told her she was a liar."
A bittersweet smile touched Thomas’s lips. "You're a brave girl, Becca. But next time, you let me fight the monsters, okay?"
Behind them, the heavy, frantic sounds of packing echoed from the grand staircase. Helen was rushing up and down the steps, carrying armfuls of expensive clothing, sobbing hysterically as the reality of her eviction set in. Robert remained slumped against the wall near the destroyed cake, holding a cloth to his bleeding nose, utterly defeated.
"Thomas," Robert rasped, his voice weak and pathetic. "Where are we supposed to go? We don't have any liquid assets. You know that. We have no cash."
Thomas didn't even turn his head to look at the man. He kept his attention entirely focused on his children.
"I suggest you call some of those friends you were just laughing with," Thomas replied coldly, his voice echoing in the bright, empty hall. "Tell them the truth about your finances. See how many of them are willing to offer you a guest room once they realize you're bankrupt."
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"They won't answer our calls if they know we're broke!" Helen wailed from the top of the stairs, clutching a bundle of silk dresses. "We will be social pariahs!"
"Actions have consequences, Helen," Thomas stated, rising to his feet and lifting Samuel into his arms, while taking Rebecca and Jacob by their hands. "You chose your social standing over your grandchildren. Now, you have neither."
