Chapter 3
I did not ask who started it.
I already knew.
My mother had spent years talking about strength as if cruelty were proof of it. My father had spent years pretending not to hear. Bianca had learned to convert favoritism into opportunity.
Mason was ten.
He was old enough to imitate what adults rewarded.
Not old enough to build this alone.
I looked at Francesca.
“How long?”
She frowned.
“How long what?”
“How long have you been telling Mason he could replace Caleb?”
Her mouth tightened.
“Replace is childish language.”
“Good. We’re discussing children.”
Silence.
One of the capos near the end of the table looked uncomfortable.
That interested me.
“Who else knew?”
No one answered.
I looked around the room.
“Did everyone suddenly lose their voice?”
Vincent stepped forward.
“That’s enough.”
I turned toward my father.
“No.”
He stared.
“You blocked the doorway while I was carrying a child who couldn’t breathe.”
His jaw tightened.
“I wanted to keep the situation contained.”
“You wanted to keep me in the room.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It is tonight.”
He looked away.
That hurt more than I expected.
My father had always been cold.
But not stupid.
He knew exactly what Francesca was doing.
Maybe not every detail.
Enough.
Bianca finally spoke.
“Mason has been preparing.”
“For what?”
“For the family.”
“He is ten.”
“He is older than Caleb.”
There it was.
Age.
Strength.
Training.
All the words people use when they want ambition to sound responsible.
I walked toward Mason.
He stepped closer to Bianca.
I stopped.
Not because I feared him.
Because he did.
“Mason, did Caleb know this was a test?”
He shook his head.
“Did you?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“What were you supposed to do?”
His eyes filled.
Bianca whispered, “Don’t.”
I looked at her.
Then back at him.
“What were you told?”
He swallowed.
“To make him quit.”
Silence.
May you like
Caleb had not been caught in a fight.
He had been put through an audition he never agreed to enter.
