Chapter 2
Finn sat wrapped in my coat while one of my men examined his wrists.
No fractures.
No serious injury.
Red marks.
Fear.
Enough.
I stood near the edge of the track with the phone in one hand and the controller in the other.
Victor stayed connected.
Anton had disconnected.
Coward.
“What evaluation?” I asked.
Victor looked sick.
“Declan said the council needed to see how Finn handled pressure.”
I almost laughed.
“The council is evaluating a three-year-old?”
“He said the question was succession.”
There it was.
Old-family sickness.
Take a child barely old enough to tie his shoes and turn him into a symbol.
I looked at Declan.
“What exactly did you tell them?”
He folded his arms.
“That Finn is being raised too softly.”
“By me.”
“Yes.”
Finally.
Honest.
Evelyn interrupted.
“You protect him from everything.”
I turned.
“He’s three.”
“That doesn’t last forever.”
“No.”
I held up the controller.
“But childhood should last longer than this.”
Victor spoke through the phone.
“Mara, we were told Finn volunteered for the kart test.”
I looked down at my son.
He heard.
His face changed.
“No.”
I knelt.
“You didn’t want to drive?”
He shook his head hard.
“Declan said birthday boys don’t cry.”
My hands tightened.
“What happened before I came?”
Finn looked at Evelyn.
“She made me do three.”
Three crashes.
My vision narrowed.
Not one.
Three.
The marks on his wrists were not from a single moment.
This had been rehearsed.
May you like
Declan had not staged an accident.
He had staged evidence.
