Chapter 2
Maura recovered first.
People like her usually do.
Not because they are calmer.
Because they've spent their lives practicing lies.
She laughed.
Loudly.
“What ridiculous nonsense.”
Nobody joined her.
She looked around the room.
“A child's toy records half a conversation and suddenly everyone forgets how context works?”
Grant removed artificial snow from his shoulder.
“Exactly.”
His confidence had returned.
Mostly.
He pointed at the little Christmas house.
“Mia leaves that thing everywhere.”
Mia immediately shook her head.
“No.”
Grant ignored her.
“It could have recorded anything.”
I looked at my daughter.
“Where did you make this?”
“My playroom.”
“Only there?”
She thought.
“And dining room.”
Maura's mouth tightened.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Grant answered too quickly.
“Mother and I weren't here yesterday.”
Mia looked at him.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Grant frowned.
“No, sweetheart.”
His voice became syrupy.
“You're confused.”
Mia's face changed.
I had seen that expression before.
Not confusion.
Fear of disagreeing.
Grant crouched.
“You don't want everybody thinking you're a liar, do you?”
I stepped between them.
“Stand up.”
He did.
Slowly.
Maura sighed.
“Lorenzo, don't encourage this.”
“Encourage what?”
“Attention-seeking.”
I stared at her.
“She was shoved into a table.”
“Because she grabbed at me.”
Mia whispered:
“No.”
Maura turned toward her.
“What?”
Mia's fingers closed around Marco's sleeve.
“You pushed me.”
Maura smiled.
Cold.
“You reached for something after I told you no.”
She tilted her head.
“If you had listened the first time, none of this would have happened.”
There it was.
Mia's fault.
The five-year-old had apparently shoved herself.
I looked at Grant.
“And you?”
“What about me?”
“You called her trash.”
He smirked.
“I said the gift matched the maker.”
Marco's jaw tightened.
So did three other men around the table.
Grant noticed.
He lifted both hands.
“Oh, come on.”
He looked at Mia.
“She's five. She'll forget by breakfast.”
Mia started crying again.
Grant laughed.
“There.”
He pointed.
“See? That's exactly what Mother means.”
I walked toward him.
He stopped laughing.
“You enjoy making her cry?”
“No.”
“Then why do you keep doing it?”
His smile returned.
“Because somebody has to stop raising her like a princess.”
Mia wasn't looking at Grant anymore.
She was looking at Maura.
Maura saw it.
“Stop staring.”
Mia immediately lowered her eyes.
That told me something.
Not enough.
But something.
I turned toward my head of security.
“Close the salon.”
Maura's face sharpened.
“You're trapping family over a child's recording?”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“I'm keeping family here while I find out why my daughter is afraid to look at you.”
That hit.
Not hard.
But enough.
Maura smiled.
“Afraid?”
She walked toward Mia.
Marco stepped between them.
Maura looked insulted.
“I am her great-aunt.”
“Stay where you are.”
She stared at me.
Then laughed.
“You really have become ridiculous.”
She turned toward the capos.
“Look at him.”
Nobody answered.
“Five years ago, men couldn't say his name without checking the door.”
She pointed toward Mia.
“Now one crying child makes him close a room.”
I looked at my daughter.
Then back at Maura.
“Yes.”
That confused her.
“Yes what?”
“Yes. One crying child is enough.”
Silence.
“Because she's mine.”
Maura's expression hardened.
Grant scoffed.
“That's exactly the problem.”
I turned.
“What?”
He realized he'd spoken too quickly.
“Nothing.”
“No.”
I stepped toward him.
“Say it.”
He looked at Maura.
She gave him the smallest shake of her head.
Too late.
Grant's jaw tightened.
“You've changed since Mia was born.”
The room became still.
“How?”
“You leave council early.”
“Yes.”
“You cancel meetings.”
“When she's sick.”
“You let people wait.”
“Yes.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You used to understand priorities.”
I almost smiled.
“Apparently you think my daughter is beneath them.”
Grant said nothing.
Maura answered.
“She should be.”
Mia heard.
I saw it.
Her little face changed.
Maura didn't care.
“Children belong around adults when they're invited. They eat when they're told. They speak when they're asked.”
She looked at Mia.
“And they learn quickly when nobody rewards whining.”
I walked toward my aunt.
“Who has been teaching her that?”
Maura smiled.
“I have.”
No shame.
Nothing.
“Someone had to.”
I felt the room shift.
“How often?”
“Whenever you're hiding in council.”
Mia whispered:
“Daddy.”
I turned immediately.
“What?”
She looked embarrassed.
“Grandma says you're too busy when the doors close.”
My stomach tightened.
“What else does she say?”
Mia hesitated.
Maura cut in.
“Enough.”
I looked at her.
Mia's voice grew smaller.
“She says I shouldn't call you.”
“Why?”
My daughter looked at Maura.
Then back at me.
“Because you won't come.”
The room went quiet.
I crouched in front of Mia.
“Who told you that?”
She whispered:
“Grandma.”
Maura rolled her eyes.
“For God's sake.”
Mia continued.
“She says I can cry louder if I want.”
My hands went cold.
“She says nobody hears through the council doors.”
I slowly stood.
Maura's expression changed.
Barely.
I looked at her.
“You've been using my meetings to frighten my daughter.”
“She needed discipline.”
“From what?”
“Neediness.”
Mia started crying harder.
Maura looked at her with open disgust.
“There she goes again.”
Then she said the sentence that made every man in the room stop breathing.
“Maybe if you let her miss a few more dinners, she'd learn crying doesn't fill a stomach either.”
I stared at her.
Mia looked at the floor.
Grant closed his eyes.
May you like
Because Maura had just told me something I hadn't known.
My daughter had been going hungry in my own house.
