Chapter 4
That was what the recordings were for.
Not cruelty for entertainment.
Conditioning.
My voice saying I did not want him.
Celina repeating that he was unwanted.
Gareth blocking doors whenever Milo tried to leave.
Then tomorrow, one final recording.
Not mine.
Milo’s.
A four-year-old saying he wanted to leave his father.
Internal family theater disguised as choice.
I stared at Celina.
“You were going to record him saying he wanted Grayhaven.”
Her face crumpled.
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“Leonard would play it for the elders.”
Which elders?
The Harbor Council.
Another dead tradition I thought my father had ended.
Five senior Ashford blood relatives and former captains who once advised on succession.
No formal command anymore.
Still enough social weight to create division if they moved together.
“And what would they do?”
Celina looked away.
Gareth answered.
“Recommend separation.”
“Recommend.”
I smiled.
“Such a clean word.”
The plan did not require anyone to physically seize Milo.
That would create resistance.
Instead, they would manufacture the appearance that Milo feared me.
Then Leonard would offer Grayhaven as refuge.
If I refused, they would say I was keeping a frightened child for political reasons.
If I agreed, Milo disappeared from my daily life.
Either way, my authority fractured.
Then came the real question.
“Who becomes future branch?”
Gareth looked at Celina.
There.
She closed her eyes.
I understood before she spoke.
“Our child.”
I laughed once.
There was no child.
Celina and I were not married yet.
She touched her engagement ring.
“Leonard said once we married—”
“You would give me a replacement heir.”
Her face hardened.
“Don’t say it like that.”
“How should I say it?”
She started crying.
“I love you.”
Maybe.
That was the worst part.
She could love me and still believe my son needed removing.
Human beings are capable of arranging cruelty around sincere feelings and calling it sacrifice.
I looked at her ring.
“You wanted Milo gone so a child you haven’t even had could become more important.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I wanted peace.”
Of course.
May you like
Peace.
The prettiest word people use when asking someone else to surrender.
