Chapter 2
Ella sat in my office with hot chocolate while one of the housekeepers helped clean the frosting from her hair.
She refused to change out of the ruined birthday dress.
“I still like it.”
So it stayed.
That mattered.
I returned to the private dining room.
Arthur and Gavin were waiting.
The others had been moved into the lounge under guard.
My father looked furious.
“You locked family inside my house.”
“My house.”
His mouth tightened.
There it was.
Another old wound.
The Whitlock estate had belonged to Arthur for most of my childhood.
When I became head of the organization six years earlier, ownership transferred with command.
Arthur never emotionally left.
Neither did Gavin.
I put Ella’s phone on the table.
“Say it now.”
Gavin laughed.
“You think a toy phone caught a conspiracy?”
I looked at him.
“I never said conspiracy.”
His face changed.
Good.
Arthur closed his eyes.
I played the recording.
At first there was only birthday noise.
Plates.
Guests.
Ella giggling somewhere nearby.
Then voices.
Arthur.
Gavin.
Close to the phone.
My father said:
“If Lucas chooses the girl again, the captains will finally see it.”
Silence.
Then Gavin:
“And if he doesn’t?”
Arthur answered:
“Then Ella learns where she belongs.”
I stopped the recording.
Nobody moved.
Gavin looked at my father.
Not me.
I leaned back.
“Explain ‘chooses the girl again.’”
Arthur folded his hands.
“You have become sentimental.”
“She is my daughter.”
“That is exactly the problem.”
My voice stayed quiet.
“What problem?”
My father finally said it.
“You keep choosing fatherhood over the family.”
I almost laughed.
“You mean over you.”
“No.”
He pointed toward Gavin.
“Over continuity.”
There it was.
The favored son.
The word my father had used since we were boys.
Gavin was continuity.
I was capability.
I fought.
Negotiated.
Led.
Protected.
But somewhere inside Arthur’s mind, the younger son remained the proper future.
I looked at Gavin.
“You shoved Ella into that cake because you expected me to react.”
He said nothing.
Arthur answered.
“Yes.”
The room turned cold.
May you like
My daughter’s birthday had been bait.
And my father had just admitted he helped set the hook.
