Chapter 3
Arthur called it a test.
Of course he did.
Cruel people love respectable nouns.
“It was supposed to show the captains whether you can separate emotion from leadership.”
I stared at him.
“You used my four-year-old daughter.”
“She was never in danger.”
I looked at the ruined cake still visible through the open doors.
“She was crying.”
“Children cry.”
Same sentence every weak adult uses when pain is inconvenient.
Gavin leaned back.
“I barely touched her.”
I looked at him.
He stopped smiling.
Arthur continued.
“You’ve canceled meetings for her.”
“She had pneumonia.”
“You left a negotiation early because she fell.”
“She needed stitches.”
“You moved a council dinner because it was her school recital.”
“Yes.”
My father’s frustration increased with every answer.
He had expected excuses.
I gave him facts.
Then I understood.
This was not really about Ella.
It was about proving that anything outside the organization could command my attention.
Arthur believed a boss should belong nowhere else.
No daughter.
No grief.
No ordinary life.
And Gavin?
Gavin had none of those things.
No wife.
No children.
No attachments stronger than ambition.
To Arthur, that looked clean.
I looked at my brother.
“What were you promised?”
He laughed.
“Nothing.”
My father’s eyes moved toward him.
Too fast.
I smiled without warmth.
“Again.”
Gavin’s jaw tightened.
Arthur interrupted.
“Your brother does not owe you explanations.”
“In my organization?”
“This family existed before your organization.”
There.
Not the organization.
Your organization.
Arthur still treated my leadership like a phase.
I leaned forward.
“When were you planning to replace me?”
Neither answered.
Then one of the guards entered.
“Boss.”
I looked at him.
“Captain Mercer asked to speak.”
Arthur went still.
Mercer.
My father’s oldest ally.
I let him in.
He took one look at Gavin’s ruined coat and almost smiled.
Then he saw Ella’s phone on the table.
The smile disappeared.
“Lucas.”
“What?”
Mercer hesitated.
“We were told tonight would show whether you were still fit to lead.”
Silence.
I looked at Arthur.
He stared back.
May you like
The birthday test had not been improvised.
The older captains had been invited to watch it.
