Chapter 8
The heavy, imposing doors of the estate swung open, and three burly men in dark suits stepped into the bright, cinematic light of the foyer. They were Thomas’s private security detail, professionals who handled the physical protection of his development sites and, occasionally, his personal affairs. They took one look at the shattered glass, the ruined cake, and the bleeding older man on the floor, and immediately looked to Thomas for orders.
"Mr. Reed," the lead security officer said, his American accent clipped and formal. "We received your call. The perimeter is secure, and the guests have all vacated the property."
"Good," Thomas nodded, his posture radiating absolute authority. He gestured toward Robert and Helen. "Escort these two off the premises. They are allowed two suitcases each. Anything else stays. If they resist, remove them forcefully."
"You can't do this!" Helen shrieked, running down the stairs with a chaotic mess of clothes in her arms. Her fair skin was flushed an ugly, blotchy red. "We will fight this in court! We will file for grandparents' rights! You are a violent, unstable man, Thomas! We will tell a judge that you assaulted your father in front of the children, and we will take custody of them!"
The threat hung in the air. The bright colors of the room seemed to sharpen, the natural light exposing the sheer desperation and malice in Helen’s eyes.
Thomas slowly handed Samuel to the lead security guard, who took the toddler gently. Thomas then turned fully to face his mother. The terrifying, icy calm that had preceded the violence returned to his handsome features.
"Custody?" Thomas asked softly, taking a slow step toward her. "You want to take me to court, Helen?"
"We will do whatever it takes to ensure those children are raised properly!" Robert chimed in, attempting to muster a shred of his former bravado, though he kept a safe distance from his son. "We will drag your name through the mud, Thomas. We will expose your wife's disappearance. We will tell the world that she ran away because she was terrified of you!"
The mention of his wife, again, was the fatal misstep.
Thomas did not strike them. He did not yell. He simply reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a small, sleek digital recorder. He pressed a button, and the crisp, clear audio of the entire confrontation from the past twenty minutes played back into the silent room.
"It's only fitting that a failure's child serves others... Since they lack a mother, they need to be severely disciplined... Tell the boy to pick up his rag and finish cleaning the floor..."
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The recorded voices of Helen and Robert echoed damningly off the marble walls.
"My security system records audio in all common areas," Thomas explained, his voice a lethal, vibrating hum. "I have hours of footage of you verbally abusing toddlers. I have video of you forcing a three-year-old to carry silver trays. Go ahead, Helen. Call a lawyer. Take me to family court. Let's see what a judge thinks of this."
