Chapter 2
The cruel laughter of Clara and the extended relatives echoed off the high, vaulted ceilings of the living room, drowning out the soft Christmas music playing in the background. The mountain of expensive, beautifully wrapped gifts surrounding Clara’s children seemed to mock the small, pathetic wooden toy currently clutched against Josephine’s chest.
Josephine stood entirely still, her small knuckles turning white as she hugged the scratched, marker-stained rocking horse tighter. Her fair, rosy face was completely flushed with deep, overwhelming humiliation. She didn't understand the complex family dynamics or the bitter resentments; she only understood that she was being laughed at, and it broke her tiny heart.
She looked up, her tear-filled eyes locking onto Bennett as he crossed the room. The distance between them felt miles wide.
"Daddy…" Josephine whispered, her voice breaking horribly through her continuous tears. She looked from the pristine toys belonging to her cousins down to the garbage in her hands. "Is this really for me?"
The absolute devastation in her tiny voice struck Bennett with the force of a physical blow. The air in his lungs turned to ice. He stopped right in front of her, entirely ignoring the snickering adults surrounding them.
"Oh, don't cry, little one," Clara sneered from the sidelines, adjusting her heavy jewelry. "It builds character. You should be grateful your grandfather thought of you at all."
"Keep your mouth shut, Clara," Bennett said quietly, not even turning his head to look at her. The sheer authority and barely contained fury in his voice silenced her instantly.
Bennett dropped gracefully to one knee, lowering himself to Josephine’s eye level. He didn't snatch the wooden horse away from her. Instead, he reached out and gently wrapped his strong arms around her small, trembling shoulders, pulling her into a tight, fiercely protective embrace. He pressed a kiss against the side of her head, his heart breaking as he felt her tears soaking through the fabric of his vest.
"I've got you, Jo," Bennett murmured softly into her ear. "I've got you. Don't listen to them."
He held her for a long moment, letting her cry against his chest, refusing to let the cruel gazes of the family penetrate the safe space he created for her. When she finally stopped shaking, Bennett slowly rose to his feet, keeping one large, comforting hand resting securely on her shoulder.
He didn't yell. He didn't immediately react. He stood tall, his handsome face a mask of terrifying, icy composure as he looked around the room.
Helen, willfully ignoring the massive tension radiating from her grandson, continued her duties as the matriarch. "Alright, moving on," Helen announced brightly, reaching under the tree to grab another beautifully wrapped box. She handed it to Silas. "Here you go, dear."
May you like
Silas, a thirty-five-year-old man dressed in a sharp shirt, trousers, and expensive shoes, took the box. He had always been Robert’s favorite, the golden child who thrived on putting Bennett in his place.
Instead of opening his gift, Silas stood abruptly from the velvet sofa. He held the box in one hand and locked his eyes on Bennett, a cruel, arrogant smirk spreading across his face.
