Chapter 2
Nobody moved.
Even the string quartet had stopped playing.
Emmett stood behind me, holding his empty tray with both hands.
The tray shook.
I turned and crouched in front of him.
“Give it to me.”
He swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
I took the tray gently.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.”
His tears fell harder.
“But Grandma hated them.”
I looked at my mother.
Lucille Montaro stood beneath white terrace lights with her diamonds shining and her face tight.
“She does not decide what love is worth,” I said.
Celina scoffed.
“That is dramatic even for you.”
I stood.
Celina was my mother’s favorite niece.
Beautiful.
Cruel.
Raised on money and applause.
She had never built anything except rumors.
“You will apologize to my son,” I said.
Her mouth opened.
Lucille lifted one hand.
“Enough, Rafael.”
“No.”
That one word changed the air.
My mother’s eyes sharpened.
“You forget where you are.”
“I am in the house my father left to me.”
A whisper moved through the guests.
Lucille’s face flickered.
There.
That fear again.
She recovered quickly.
“Your father left this estate to the family trust.”
“To me,” I said. “Until Emmett turns twenty-one.”
Celina smiled.
“Are you certain?”
My blood cooled.
“What does that mean?”
Lucille stepped forward.
“It means you should not make speeches before reading what you sign.”
I stared at her.
My lawyer, Victor Hale, appeared near the terrace doors.
He looked pale.
Too pale.
“Rafael,” he said carefully, “maybe we should speak inside.”
I looked from him to my mother.
Emmett’s hand slipped into mine.
“Daddy?”
I squeezed his fingers.
“Stay with me.”
Victor lowered his voice.
“There are documents you need to see.”
Lucille smiled then.
Small.
Victorious.
And I understood.
May you like
This party had not been a celebration.
It had been a trap.
