Chapter 6
The barbecue smoke had gone cold by the time Dad admitted it.
“Temporary transition.”
I stared.
“Those words never mean temporary.”
“It was meant to calm things.”
“What things?”
Kevin answered.
“You.”
I looked at him.
He smiled.
“Your obsession with control.”
I almost laughed.
“You stole my money.”
“Family money.”
“Say it again.”
His face hardened.
I stepped closer.
“Say family money one more time like theft becomes tradition if enough relatives repeat it.”
He said nothing.
Dad rubbed his forehead.
“Claire, the old men are concerned.”
“Names.”
Silence.
“Which old men?”
“Several.”
“Names.”
Dad's face tightened.
Kevin laughed.
“She thinks everyone reports to her.”
Thomas answered:
“They do.”
Kevin glared.
Good.
I looked at Dad.
“Names.”
He finally gave four.
Peter Morgan.
Harold Chase.
Samuel Dean.
Walter Briggs.
I knew all four.
Two had personally asked me to remain head six months earlier.
One had told me Kevin was becoming embarrassing at Harbor Club.
The fourth barely attended anything.
I looked at Dad.
“They didn't ask.”
His face changed.
There.
I knew.
“You told Kevin they did.”
Silence.
Kevin turned.
“What?”
Dad looked at him.
“Not now.”
Kevin stepped closer.
“You said Peter wanted change.”
“He does.”
“No.”
I cut in.
“He wants stability.”
Kevin stared.
“What difference?”
“Me.”
Silence.
I continued.
“He wanted me to stop letting you represent south crews.”
Kevin looked at Dad.
“Is that true?”
Dad said nothing.
Third fracture.
Good.
Kevin laughed bitterly.
“You used me.”
Dad snapped:
“I protected you.”
“By lying?”
“I kept you confident.”
There.
Another euphemism.
Control becomes confidence.
Theft becomes family spending.
Humiliation becomes humor.
I almost smiled.
Kevin turned away.
Then looked at the black card again.
“So this transition.”
I looked at Dad.
“What exactly was supposed to happen?”
He hesitated.
Kevin answered:
“She steps back from accounts.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Interesting.
Kevin continued.
“I take operational control.”
“Then?”
He smiled.
“Everything finally lines up.”
No.
Too simple.
I looked at Dad.
“And Noah?”
His face changed.
There.
Always follow the reaction.
“What about my son?”
Dad said:
“Nothing.”
Kevin looked at him.
Interesting.
He didn't know.
I stepped closer.
“What about Noah?”
Dad sighed.
“Claire.”
“No.”
I looked toward the house.
My son was still eating.
Safe.
For now.
“What did you plan around him?”
Dad stared.
Then said:
“He was going to stay with us.”
Silence.
Kevin turned.
“What?”
Dad looked annoyed.
“For a week.”
“Why?”
“To give Claire space.”
I almost laughed.
“From my four-year-old?”
“You need to focus.”
“No.”
Kevin stared at Dad.
“You never told me that.”
Dad snapped:
“You didn't need every detail.”
There.
Same thing.
Layers.
Kevin thought he was replacing me.
Dad had a separate leverage plan.
I looked at Richard.
“You were taking Noah.”
“No.”
“Without my agreement.”
“Temporarily.”
“Without my agreement.”
He sighed.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Madison looked confused.
“Grandpa?”
Dad turned.
She continued.
“Noah staying here?”
Richard softened his voice.
“Just a little while.”
I stared at the public sweetness.
The same man who had laughed at Noah minutes earlier.
“Why?”
Dad looked at me.
His face hardened again.
“Because you won't cooperate while he's in your arms.”
There.
My son as leverage.
I looked at Kevin.
He went pale.
For the first time, even he looked uncomfortable.
“You planned to use Noah against her?”
Dad glared.
“Don't pretend you're better.”
Kevin stopped.
Richard continued.
“You spent her money.”
“That isn't a child.”
“No.”
Dad's voice became cold.
“A child works better.”
The patio went silent.
I stared at my father.
No shame.
May you like
Only strategy.
And suddenly Kevin's theft wasn't the ugliest thing in the yard.
