Chapter 4
Martin arrived before midnight.
I had not invited him.
Good.
People reveal more when they think urgency still belongs to them.
He entered my study carrying his cane and his old Roswell confidence.
Brielle sat across the room.
No engagement ring now.
I had removed nothing.
She did.
That answer could wait.
Martin looked at me.
“You overreacted.”
I almost smiled.
“A woman tied one of my sons to a post and blindfolded the other.”
“Padded post.”
There.
One phrase.
Enough.
He had been briefed on the details.
“You knew.”
He leaned on the cane.
“I knew there would be a demonstration.”
A demonstration.
Not attempted injury.
Not terrified children.
A demonstration.
“Whose idea?”
He hesitated.
Brielle answered.
“Mine.”
Martin looked at her sharply.
Interesting.
She had escalated his plan.
He originally wanted an incident.
A staged argument.
Caleb shoving Micah near relatives.
Something frightening but minor.
Brielle decided the blindfold-and-bat scene would be stronger.
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because nobody listens when children just argue.”
True.
And horrifying.
She needed visual proof.
A moment impossible to dismiss.
Martin admitted he had prepared the envelopes.
If the council agreed, Caleb would spend six months at his estate.
Micah would remain with me and Brielle.
Then, according to Martin, both boys would “reset.”
I asked:
“And if I refused?”
He smiled.
“You care about the family’s confidence.”
There it was.
Reputation pressure.
No one could force my hand.
But they could make me look reckless for keeping supposedly dangerous siblings together.
They could whisper that grief made me blind.
That a widower father refused necessary discipline.
That Brielle was the only adult thinking clearly.
I looked at her.
She had not just wanted the boys separated.
She wanted to become indispensable by creating the crisis she could then help solve.
Martin tapped his cane.
“Young boys survive discomfort.”
I stared at him.
“Does that include almost being struck with a bat?”
“He wasn’t.”
The family disease in two words.
No blood, therefore no harm.
I leaned back.
“Then you’re done advising me about children.”
May you like
His face changed.
That frightened him more than anger.
