Chapter 5
Spencer denied the seating chart mattered.
Then claimed it was hypothetical.
Then called it contingency planning.
He moved through lies like a man changing jackets.
I let him.
Every new version told me more.
Meredith sat quietly.
The engagement ring on her hand looked suddenly heavy.
I asked Spencer:
“How exactly does a Kline become chair of Moretti?”
He had an answer.
Marriage.
Not his.
Meredith’s.
If she married me, Kline would become embedded enough in the family to justify temporary administrative control if I became unavailable.
He never expected formal leadership permanently.
At least not initially.
He expected access.
Then influence.
Then inevitability.
He smiled.
“You married power into us.”
Wrong.
I had not married anyone yet.
That mattered.
I looked at Meredith.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
I believed her.
Then:
“Did you know he intended to speak for me?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
There.
Complicity without full knowledge.
Still complicity.
“How many times?”
“Four.”
She whispered it.
Four mornings.
Four windows where Spencer met captains while I struggled to keep my eyes open.
“What did you tell Iris?”
Meredith started crying.
“That Daddy needed special tea.”
“And the bread?”
Her face crumpled.
“I needed her not to wander away.”
So she used hunger to keep a child fixed beside the cup.
Simple.
Efficient.
Cruel.
I stood.
“That ends everything.”
Meredith looked up.
“The engagement?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
No bargaining yet.
Good.
Spencer laughed.
“You’re throwing away an alliance because a child missed breakfast.”
I turned.
That sentence told me exactly what kind of man stood in my home.
“No.”
I walked closer.
“I’m ending an engagement because the woman I planned to marry repeatedly altered my drink, used my daughter to deliver it, and helped you borrow my authority while I was impaired.”
Silence.
Then:
“The hunger simply tells me who she became while doing it.”
Meredith cried harder.
I did not enjoy it.
Consequences are not entertainment.
Then Rafe stepped forward.
“Boss. One of the six captains is here.”
“Who?”
“Thomas Vale.”
Old friend of my father.
Seventy-one.
He had come voluntarily.
Interesting.
“He says Spencer lied about you.”
May you like
Finally.
Another door opening.
