Chapter 15
I changed the Moretti breakfast room.
Not because rooms cause betrayal.
Because Iris asked.
“No planter.”
Fair.
The old planter was removed.
Not destroyed.
Moved to the greenhouse.
She chose a round table instead of the low serving table.
Julia picked new cups.
Iris insisted they all match.
No special cup for Daddy.
That mattered.
The first breakfast in the new room, Iris placed a cup in front of me.
Then another in front of herself.
“Same.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She ate first.
I smiled.
Then Thomas Vale arrived for a morning meeting.
He paused at the doorway.
“Should I wait?”
“No.”
He joined us.
That too was deliberate.
No secret morning structure.
If business happened during breakfast, it happened openly enough that nobody needed to invent who spoke for me later.
Thomas looked at Iris.
She offered him toast.
He accepted.
Then she said:
“Daddy gets his own.”
I laughed.
Thomas did too.
Message received.
The old six-captain group dissolved naturally.
Some men remained close.
Some did not.
No private “interim consensus.”
No shadow court.
If they disagreed with me, they told me.
Sometimes loudly.
Better.
Leadership became noisier.
Also safer.
One afternoon Rafe asked:
“Do you miss how quiet it was before?”
I looked at him.
“When?”
“When everyone assumed your answer.”
I thought.
May you like
“No.”
Quiet is overrated when it depends on people speaking elsewhere.
