Chapter 2 - The Confrontation at the Sink
Ashley didn't have to call them.
The clattering of the heavy pot and the sudden silence of the catering staff had drawn attention. The glass doors of the mansion slid open, and my mother, Margaret, stepped out onto the patio, her diamond bracelets clinking against her wrist. Behind her came my brother, Michael, looking flushed and arrogant from the wine.
"Ashley, darling, what is taking so long?" Margaret complained, adjusting her designer sunglasses. "The guests are asking for the next course, and—"
She stopped dead in her tracks.
Her eyes landed on me. The champagne glass in Michael’s hand tilted, spilling red wine onto his pristine white linen shirt, but he didn't even notice.
"Daniel!" Margaret gasped, her face instantly morphing from a tyrannical matriarch into a doting, loving mother. She threw her arms out, stepping over the puddles toward me. "Oh, my beautiful boy! Look at you! Why didn't you tell us you were landing? We would have thrown you a proper welcome home party!"
"Looks like you already threw one, Mom," I said, stepping backward so she couldn't touch me. I held Emily firmly against my side, my arm wrapped protectively around her waist.
Michael tried to laugh it off, stepping forward with an easy, confident stride. "Hey, man! We were just celebrating the new quarterly projections. You know how hard we've been working to keep the estate running while you're global."
"Working hard?" I nodded toward the industrial sink, toward the mountain of grease-covered pans, and then down at Emily's bleeding fingers. "Is this the work you've been doing, Michael? Turning my wife into a servant while you drink ten-thousand-dollar bottles of wine on my dime?"
Margaret’s expression hardened, the fake warmth vanishing in an instant. She crossed her arms, looking at Emily with cold contempt. "Daniel, don't be dramatic. Emily is a sweet girl, but she has absolutely no sense of high society. She was completely overwhelmed by the staff and the management of this estate. We simply gave her chores to keep her busy. She wanted to feel useful, didn't you, Emily?"
Emily shrunk back against my chest, her shoulders shaking.
"She didn't want this," I roared, my voice finally breaking, exploding across the manicured backyard. The catering staff stopped completely, staring in shock. "You took her phone, didn't you? That's why her numbers were always disconnected when I called from Tokyo. You told me she was resting or at a spa. You intercepted my letters!"
"Daniel, we did it for the family!" Ashley cried, stepping to Margaret’s side. "She doesn't belong in Beverly Hills! Look at her! She’s a small-town girl. She was going to embarrass you in front of the board! We were just protecting your image!"
"My image?" I chuckled, a dark, dangerous sound. I held up the black tablet. "You love my image because it pays for your lifestyle. But you forgot one thing, family. I don't own this empire. We do."
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I tapped the screen sharply, executing a series of commands I had prepared the moment the security guard paled at the front gate.
"What did you just do?" Michael asked, his smug smile finally beginning to fade as his phone vibrated violently in his pocket. A second later, Margaret’s phone and Ashley’s phone began chiming in a frantic, chaotic chorus of emergency alerts.
