Chapter 5
I brought Clara back to bed.
Mother followed.
Of course she did.
She had spent six days deciding Clara's body belonged to the house.
Apparently that included deciding when she could rest.
“You can't keep coddling her.”
I turned.
“Leave.”
Mother stared.
“What?”
“Get out of this room.”
“This is my grandson's nursery.”
“No.”
I walked toward the door.
“This is my wife's room.”
Mother laughed.
“She married into this family.”
“And?”
“She doesn't get to turn you against us.”
I almost smiled.
“She didn't.”
Mother frowned.
“You did.”
That landed.
She recovered by becoming cruel.
“Clara was nobody before you.”
Clara flinched.
I turned slowly.
Mother saw it.
Kept going.
“Don't look shocked.”
Her voice became sharp.
“She had no name that mattered here.”
I stepped forward.
“Stop.”
“No.”
She pointed at Clara.
“Her own mother died with nothing.”
Clara's face changed.
Mother smiled.
“There. That little wounded look.”
My hands curled.
“She uses dead people too.”
Clara whispered:
“Don't talk about my mother.”
Evelyn laughed.
“Why? Is she going to come defend you?”
Silence.
The cruelty was so casual it felt rehearsed.
“Call her.”
Mother tilted her head.
“Go ahead.”
Clara looked away.
Evelyn smiled.
“Exactly.”
I crossed the room.
Mother finally stopped.
“You mention Clara's mother again and you leave this house tonight.”
She stared.
“You would throw your own mother out for her?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
That frightened her more than shouting.
Victor appeared in the doorway.
“Daniel.”
I looked at him.
He nodded toward the hall.
“We need to talk privately.”
“No.”
His expression tightened.
“This involves family.”
“So does she.”
He glanced at Clara.
“That is the problem.”
There.
Again.
Not hidden.
Not anymore.
“What do you want?”
Victor entered.
“Your mother was trying to protect the house.”
“From a woman who needed toast?”
“From what happens next.”
My attention sharpened.
“What happens next?”
He looked at Mother.
She said nothing.
Victor sighed.
“You told us before the birth you wanted to reduce operations.”
Clara looked at me.
I had.
I planned to spend more time home.
Cut dangerous routes.
Step back from certain deals.
Not leave.
Change.
Victor continued.
“People noticed.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“You noticed.”
His jaw tightened.
“You're making decisions because of her.”
I looked at Clara.
Then him.
“Yes.”
He almost laughed.
“You admit it.”
“Of course.”
“You're letting a postpartum wife reshape the Carter family.”
“No.”
I pointed toward Noah.
“I'm letting having a son reshape me.”
Victor looked disgusted.
“Same weakness.”
Mother nodded.
There it was.
Shared belief.
They were not simply trying to punish Clara.
They were trying to punish me through her.
“What was the photograph?”
Silence.
“HE WILL CHOOSE.”
Victor looked at Mother.
I caught it.
“You expected me to choose what?”
Mother answered.
“The family.”
“Over Clara?”
“Over weakness.”
I stared.
“And if I didn't?”
Victor smiled.
That bothered me.
“What?”
He shrugged.
“Then other men would have to carry what you won't.”
I understood.
“Yourself.”
He spread his hands.
“Someone has to.”
Mother cut in.
“Victor never abandoned his responsibilities because a woman cried.”
I looked at him.
He smiled.
Proud.
Then Marissa appeared in the doorway.
“Boss.”
She held something.
Victor's smile disappeared.
A small black lapel pin.
Not his normal family pin.
A silver crescent etched into the back.
I recognized it.
A faction mark.
Old.
Unofficial.
Used by men who believed my father's rules should never have changed.
“Where did you find that?”
Marissa looked at Victor.
“In the west nursery.”
His face hardened.
Mother looked away.
I held the pin.
Then looked at both of them.
“This isn't just about Clara.”
Neither answered.
I finally understood the photograph differently.
HE WILL CHOOSE.
May you like
They weren't waiting to see whether I chose my wife.
They were waiting to see whether I chose them.
