Chapter 1 - The Feast of Hypocrites
Ethan stepped into the warm glow of the formal dining room, his face masked in an effortless, charming smile.
The rich aroma of roasted garlic, butter-basted prime rib, and vintage Cabernet Sauvignon hung thick in the heated air.
Cassandra’s fork clattered loudly against her porcelain china plate, her hand freezing mid-air.
Beatrice’s manicured fingers tightened around her crystal wineglass so hard the stem nearly snapped beneath her diamond rings.
Arthur slowly set his carving knife down on the silver platter, clearing his throat to mask the sudden terror in his eyes.
“Ethan, my boy!” Arthur boomed, attempting to summon his booming patriarch voice as he rose from the head of the table.
“We weren't expecting your flight from New York until Thursday evening!”
“The cybersecurity merger closed forty-eight hours ahead of schedule, Father,” Ethan replied smoothly, taking off his damp overcoat and draping it over an empty chair.
“The acquisition added four hundred and fifty million dollars in enterprise value to our holding group before the opening bell.”
Beatrice forced a radiant, maternal smile that failed completely to reach her cold, calculating eyes.
“That is magnificent news, darling!” Beatrice purred, smoothing down the front of her plum-colored cashmere sweater.
“Sit down and let me fix you a plate of prime rib; you must be famished after such a grueling flight.”
Ethan’s gaze flickered casually toward the dark archway leading to the unheated pantry at the end of the hall.
Through the shadows, he saw Elena clutching five-year-old Toby tightly against her mustard-yellow maternity gown.
Toby was still holding that dry crust of sourdough bread, his small, frightened eyes watching his father through the cracked door.
The bruise on Elena’s wrist throbbed with a dark, purplish heat that burned directly into Ethan’s soul.
Every fiber of Ethan’s being screamed at him to flip the seventy-thousand-dollar mahogany table and drive his fist into Arthur’s jaw.
He wanted to drag his mother by her pearls into the freezing sleet and make Cassandra choke on her imported vintage wine.
Yet fifteen years of building a global tech empire had taught Ethan that raw fury was a weapon best served cold and calculated.
A physical fight would give them warning; a legal and corporate ambush would destroy them permanently.
“I am actually quite exhausted from the travel, Mother,” Ethan said, his tone gentle and completely devoid of suspicion.
“I think I will take a hot shower and check on Elena before turning in.”
Cassandra let out an anxious, high-pitched giggle, nervously adjusting her emerald silk blouse.
“Elena was feeling terribly fatigued from the pregnancy, Ethan; she asked to rest in the lower suite with Toby so she wouldn't be disturbed by our dinner.”
“Did she?” Ethan smiled warmly, looking directly into his sister’s deceitful eyes.
“How remarkably considerate of her.”
He picked up his leather briefcase from the foyer, offering a casual nod to his parents.
“We will review the corporate power of attorney documents tomorrow morning at nine sharp, Father.”
Arthur’s chest puffed with greedy pride as he raised his glass in a mock salute.
May you like
“To the future of the Thorne dynasty, son.”
Ethan turned his back on the dining room, walking into the dark corridor where his real family was shivering in the shadows.
