Chapter 8
"I was going to pay it back!" Kevin pleaded, holding his hands up as he stared down the barrel of Marcus's gun. "Claire, please! The market was down! I just needed a bridge loan! Madison wanted the elite coaching package in Florida, and the new equipment, and I couldn't say no to her!"
"You stole syndicate operational funds to spoil a psychopath," Claire said, her voice echoing coldly over the quiet lawn.
Suddenly, a slow, methodical clapping sound broke the tension.
Madison Morgan walked forward from the edge of the grass. The twelve-year-old girl dropped her custom carbon-fiber tennis racket onto the turf. She adjusted the collar of her unbuttoned shirt. Her thick, wavy hair was pushed back, a few loose strands falling charmingly over her forehead. She possessed a terrifyingly masculine, commanding presence that was deeply unsettling for a child her age. Her high-bridged nose and sharply defined jawline were tilted upward in defiance.
"You talk a big game, Aunt Claire," Madison said. She spoke slowly, with deliberate, controlled pauses between her words. Her volume was unnervingly low, yet every syllable sounded measured, cold, and dangerous. "But my father is the eldest male. The eastern families won't respect a woman running the ledger."
Claire looked down at the twelve-year-old. The girl's skin was fair and rosy, but her eyes were entirely dead.
"The eastern families respect bodies in the river, Madison," Claire replied, matching the girl's icy tone. "They don't care about gender. They care about profit. Your father has jeopardized both."
"He bought me what I deserve," Madison stated, sliding her hands into her tailored pockets. "I am the future of this family. Noah is a weak, crying baby. He couldn't even handle a little dirt."
"Your future," Claire said, stepping forward until she towered over the tween, "ended the moment you picked up that bucket. You think you look like a boss, Madison? You think slicked-back hair and a cold stare makes you dangerous?"
"I am dangerous," Madison whispered.
"You are a spoiled brat living on stolen money," Claire corrected sharply. "Marcus."
"Yes, Ma'am," the lead guard replied.
"Confiscate all of the gifts on this lawn. The rackets, the electronics, the jewelry. Burn them in the incinerator."
"No!" Madison shouted, her cool facade finally cracking, her voice pitching up into a childish shriek. "You can't do that! Those are mine! Dad, tell her she can't!"
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"I... I can't do anything, Maddie," Kevin wept, curling his knees to his chest on the patio. "She controls the guns."
"Take her to her room," Claire ordered. "And pack her bags. She's going to the military boarding school in upstate New York tonight."
