Chapter 6
Ryan stopped pretending.
Not completely.
Enough.
“You travel constantly.”
“I lead.”
“You leave children behind.”
“I provide security.”
“You leave your mother in this house.”
“With my husband.”
He smiled.
“Exactly.”
I hated how pleased he was.
“You wanted people to believe I abandoned them.”
“I wanted people to see reality.”
“What reality?”
“That the organization runs without you.”
I looked around the empty kitchen.
“By starving toddlers?”
Vivian scoffed.
“Children are irrelevant.”
Oliver heard her.
His face fell.
I turned.
She noticed.
“Oh, don’t start.”
“What?”
“Making every sentence about their feelings.”
She pointed at Emma.
“She won’t remember any of this.”
Margaret whispered:
“She already cries when Vivian enters.”
Vivian smiled.
“Good. Fear teaches faster than affection.”
I looked at Ryan.
“You grew up hearing this?”
He shrugged.
“Made me useful.”
No.
It made him obedient to cruelty.
Different thing.
I looked at Margaret.
“What did they want the seal for?”
“To stamp a message.”
Ryan’s expression changed.
“What message?”
She hesitated.
Vivian snapped:
“Don’t.”
Margaret looked at me.
For the first time, she ignored Vivian.
“A dinner invitation.”
“To whom?”
“Old Bennett capos.”
I understood.
Not paperwork.
Symbol.
The old seal on a private card would make traditional men believe the invitation came from someone with original Bennett authority.
“Victor.”
Margaret nodded.
Ryan laughed.
“Or you.”
I turned.
“What?”
“If you failed to return.”
The words settled.
They had two stories ready.
Victor was back.
Or Claire had chosen him.
Either way, Ryan could gather old men privately.
“What was the dinner for?”
Silence.
Then Oliver whispered:
“Daddy practiced a speech.”
Ryan’s face changed.
I crouched.
“What speech?”
Oliver frowned, remembering.
“Mommy needs rest.”
My stomach turned.
“What else?”
“She’s tired.”
Ryan snapped:
“Enough.”
Oliver jumped.
I stood between them.
“Continue.”
My son whispered:
“And Daddy keeps the house safe until Mommy gets better.”
There it was.
Not killing me.
Not openly replacing me.
Declaring me unfit.
Temporarily.
Always temporary.
Then permanent.
Ryan looked at me.
“You’ve been gone twelve days.”
I almost smiled.
“And came back on thirteen.”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
I looked at the children behind me.
“That was your first mistake.”
Then Margaret whispered:
“No.”
I turned.
“What?”
May you like
She looked terrified.
“His first mistake was thinking you were the only one returning early.”
