Chapter 5
I laughed.
Not loudly.
Malcolm hated it anyway.
“You spent millions buying Lucas’s stupidity because you wanted one picture.”
His face hardened.
“Symbolism matters.”
“Yes.”
I looked around his restored estate.
“You built your life around it.”
One of the older men stepped forward.
Arthur Vale.
Eighty.
Still wearing the same family pin he wore at my husband’s funeral.
“This system prevented wars.”
“No.”
I turned.
“It moved wars into children’s bedrooms.”
He frowned.
“You always dramatize.”
That phrase.
Old cruelty’s favorite defense.
Malcolm motioned toward the sitting room.
“Come inside.”
I did.
Not because he commanded it.
Because I wanted everyone listening.
The room was prepared for Theo.
Small bed.
Toys.
Books.
No chains.
No locked doors.
That was the point.
They wanted captivity comfortable enough to rename.
Malcolm watched my face.
“You see?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“You thought luxury would make me forget he couldn’t leave.”
Silence.
Good.
I walked to the little bed.
A navy sweater lay folded at the foot.
Carbone crest stitched into it.
They had planned photographs.
Of course.
I looked at Malcolm.
“You wanted him dressed as Carbone.”
“He is Carbone.”
“Then why did Lucas pack ordinary clothes?”
Malcolm said nothing.
Because the sweater belonged to the performance.
I understood the sequence.
Theo arrives.
Gets dressed.
Sits at dinner between Malcolm and the old advisers.
Photographs circulate quietly.
Story follows.
Eleanor has accepted the old pledge custom.
Eastern harbor negotiations reopen.
Smaller families restore child guarantees.
Malcolm becomes relevant again.
A three-year-old boy transformed into policy.
I looked around the room.
“This ends tonight.”
Arthur scoffed.
“You can’t erase custom.”
“No.”
I met his eyes.
“But I can make obedience expensive.”
Malcolm smiled.
“There she is.”
He sounded pleased.
That bothered me.
Then I realized why.
He wanted confrontation too.
If I stormed in, threatened everyone, and publicly protected Theo, he could tell the old families the system still frightened me.
Another story.
Another use.
So I sat.
Calmly.
“Fine.”
Malcolm frowned.
“Let’s negotiate.”
May you like
The room went quiet.
Not the response they prepared for.
