Chapter 4 - The Trap is SetThat evening, the dinner table was a masterclass in psychological warfare.
The dining room chandelier cast a brilliant, glittering light over the imported mahogany table, illuminating silver platters of roast chicken, roasted asparagus, and wild rice. Avery and Sophie sat quietly at the end of the table, their plates arranged just the way Clara knew they liked—proteins separated from starches, colors sorted neatly.
Patricia sat to my right, playing the doting aunt, cutting Sophie’s chicken with practiced theatrical grace.
"You know, Ethan," Patricia purred, offering a sweet smile across the table as she glanced toward the kitchen doors where Clara was clearing plates. "I was speaking with our financial advisor this afternoon regarding the girls' trust portfolio review. Given how much time you spend traveling for the conglomerate, I really think it would ease your burden if I signed the secondary proxy documents as acting family guardian. It would streamline everything immensely."
Avery dropped her fork. The metallic clatter echoed sharply against the quiet dining room walls.
Sophie immediately reached out, grabbing Avery’s hand, her fingers trembling slightly as her eyes darted nervously toward Patricia.
I didn't look at Patricia. I slowly picked up my linen napkin, dabbed my lips, and placed it neatly beside my plate.
"Proxy documents?" I asked, my voice dangerously calm. "Odd, Patricia. I didn't authorize a portfolio review for another six months."
Patricia’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she smoothly recovered, laughing a light, airy laugh. "Oh, just proactive planning, darling! You carry so much weight on your shoulders. I only want to help lighten the load."
"You’ve helped plenty," I said, standing up slowly from my chair.
The heavy scraping of my chair legs against the hardwood made everyone at the table go completely still. Avery looked up at me with wide, fearful eyes, sensing the sudden, violent shift in the room’s atmospheric pressure.
"Daddy?" Avery whispered.
I looked down at my daughters, and for the first time in two years, I let the cold executive mask slip away, showing them a look of absolute, unyielding protection.
"Keep eating, girls," I said softly, my voice gentle. "Clara is bringing dessert in a minute. The corner piece with extra frosting for Avery, and the blue light ready upstairs for Sophie."
Avery’s eyes widened in astonishment, while Sophie gave a tiny, relieved nod.
I turned my head toward Patricia, whose face had instantly drained of all color.
"Patricia," I said, my voice dropping into the lethal register I used when crushing corporate competitors on Wall Street. "Step into the study. Now."
"Ethan, what on earth is—"
"I said, now."
May you like
The single word carried the terrifying weight of a man who owned half the commercial real estate in Texas. Patricia slowly pushed her chair back, her knees shaking slightly beneath the linen tablecloth as she stood up. Without a word, she hurried around the table and bolted toward the study doors, her heels clicking frantically against the marble floor.
I followed her at a slow, deliberate pace, leaving Clara standing quietly in the kitchen doorway, watching us with a calm, steady gaze.
