Chapter 10
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Margaret was the first.
She laughed.
Quietly.
David looked at her.
That laugh was worse than denial.
“You believe a dying man over me?”
Her voice was contemptuous.
David’s face tightened.
“He was my father.”
“He was weak.”
The room went still.
Margaret continued.
“He spent his whole life apologizing for not wanting enough.”
David stared.
“You sent the Calders to him.”
“I sent a message.”
Her chin lifted.
“I did not pull a trigger.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
The same logic.
Again.
Control the conditions.
Then pretend the result belonged to someone else.
David’s breathing became ragged.
“Why?”
Margaret looked at him like the answer should have been obvious.
“Because he was going to leave.”
A pause.
“With you.”
David froze.
Margaret continued.
“He wanted to disappear.”
“To take the Mercer name and run to some quiet town where nobody cared who he was.”
Her lip curled.
“I had spent ten years dragging that man into rooms he was too timid to enter.”
David whispered:
“He wanted to protect me.”
Margaret snapped:
“He wanted to make you ordinary.”
The word exploded out of her.
That was the major truth.
Margaret had not built her life around protecting David.
She had built David around her own hunger for power.
She wanted a son who would become what Gabriel refused to be.
Hard.
Ambitious.
Feared.
When Gabriel tried to remove David from that world, Margaret stopped him.
Then rewrote the story.
Vittorio became the villain.
Gabriel became a martyr.
David became her weapon.
Sarah stared at her husband.
Every cruelty she had suffered suddenly had an origin.
But not an excuse.
David turned slowly toward her.
His eyes were wet.
Sarah did not move toward him.
That mattered.
He looked down.
“I thought…”
His voice failed.
Margaret scoffed.
“Don't start crying now.”
David’s head snapped toward her.
She continued.
“Your wife already does enough of that for both of you.”
Sarah’s jaw tightened.
Margaret pointed toward David.
“I gave you a reason to become powerful.”
Her voice grew harsher.
“And what did you do with it?”
She looked him up and down.
“Spend five years sulking because your wife’s father had a bigger chair.”
David’s hands curled.
Margaret smiled.
“There he is.”
“Still the boy.”
“Still desperate to prove he deserves the room.”
David stepped toward her.
Vittorio did not interfere.
Margaret stared up at her son.
“Go ahead.”
Her eyes were fearless.
“Hit me.”
A slow smile.
“Show everyone how little of your father survived.”
David stopped.
That insult saved her from his hand.
Not because she was right.
Because he finally understood she had been directing his rage his entire life.
Sarah watched him open his fingers.
For the first time, he refused to perform the emotion Margaret wanted.
Her smile disappeared.
Power shifted.
Then David asked:
“Tomorrow.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed.
“What about it?”
“The Calder men.”
He stared.
“You told me they were coming to support me.”
“Yes.”
“For my leadership challenge.”
“Yes.”
David took one step closer.
“What did you promise them?”
Margaret said nothing.
Sarah’s breathing changed.
Vittorio saw.
David repeated:
“What did you promise Calder?”
Margaret's confidence returned.
“Something you no longer need to worry about.”
David’s jaw tightened.
“That means you didn't tell me.”
No answer.
Vittorio looked toward Paolo.
The old capo whispered:
“Ask about Sarah.”
Everyone turned.
Margaret’s eyes flashed.
That was enough.
Sarah’s face went pale.
David slowly looked at his mother.
“What did you promise them about my wife?”
Margaret did not answer.
Then a voice came from the doorway.
Older.
Calm.
Male.
“I can.”
May you like
Lucian Calder had arrived.
And he looked directly at Sarah.
