Chapter 2
I brought Cody's index card to dinner.
I almost left it at home.
Something made me slide it into my purse.
Malcolm's estate sat behind stone walls and iron gates, the kind of house designed to tell visitors that the family inside had money before they reached the front door.
Cody hated it.
I knew because his shoulders tightened every time we arrived.
That night was worse.
Patrick parked beside six other cars.
“Everybody's here,” he said.
Cody stared through the windshield.
“Great.”
I touched his arm.
“You want me to stay close?”
He gave me the smallest nod.
Inside, Malcolm stood beside the fireplace.
Seventy years old.
Tall.
Silver hair.
Perfect posture.
He kissed my cheek.
Then his attention moved immediately to Cody.
“There he is.”
Something about the words bothered me.
Not grandson.
Not Cody.
There he is.
Dean stood nearby with two other cousins.
Patrick's sister Maureen poured wine.
Everyone seemed normal.
Too normal.
Dinner began with stories about Shawn.
Funny ones at first.
Shawn destroying Malcolm's lawnmower at fourteen.
Shawn getting arrested for stealing a traffic sign in college.
Shawn showing up drunk at Patrick's wedding rehearsal and somehow charming everyone by dessert.
Then Malcolm lifted his glass.
“To Shawn.”
Everyone repeated it.
Cody didn't.
Malcolm noticed.
“So,” he said, “your father tells me you're looking at colleges.”
Cody looked toward Patrick.
Patrick smiled.
“He's talented.”
“I know.”
Malcolm's answer came too quickly.
He reached beneath his chair and removed a thick folder.
My stomach tightened.
“What is that?” I asked.
Malcolm placed it in front of Cody.
“An opportunity.”
Cody didn't touch it.
Patrick opened it instead.
Inside were brochures.
Not colleges.
Business schools.
A summer leadership program.
An internship application for Bannon Logistics.
Cody looked confused.
“I don't want to work there.”
Silence.
Patrick laughed nervously.
“He's sixteen.”
“Exactly,” Malcolm said. “Old enough to start learning.”
Cody pushed the folder away.
“I already know what I'm doing.”
Malcolm leaned back.
“And what is that?”
“Animation.”
Dean smirked.
Malcolm didn't.
“Drawing cartoons?”
Cody's face reddened.
“It's not—”
“He's applying to art schools,” I said.
Every head turned toward me.
Including Cody's.
Malcolm stared.
“Applying?”
I reached into my purse and placed the index card beside Cody.
“I found this.”
Cody went pale.
Patrick picked it up.
“Eighteen days?”
Cody looked trapped.
“I was going to tell you.”
“Tell us what?” Patrick asked.
“I've been building a portfolio.”
“For where?”
Cody hesitated.
“California.”
Patrick almost laughed.
Malcolm didn't move at all.
“California where?”
“CalArts.”
The room changed.
It was subtle.
A fork stopped.
Dean looked at Malcolm.
Maureen lowered her wineglass.
I felt Cody tense beside me.
Patrick seemed confused by their reaction.
“What's wrong?”
Malcolm folded his hands.
“Nothing.”
He looked at Cody.
“You won't be applying.”
Cody blinked.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“He can apply anywhere he wants,” I said.
Malcolm's gaze shifted toward me.
“This is family business.”
“He's my son.”
Patrick touched my knee beneath the table.
Not affectionately.
Warning me.
Cody's voice shook.
“Why can't I go?”
Malcolm looked toward Shawn's empty chair.
Because they had left it there.
At the head end of the table.
Like a shrine.
Then Malcolm said something I would remember forever.
“Because Shawn was supposed to take over.”
Patrick frowned.
“Dad—”
“And Shawn is gone.”
Malcolm looked at Cody.
“You are his closest blood.”
I stared at him.
Cody did too.
“I don't understand.”
But I did.
Suddenly every strange look made sense.
Shawn had no children.
Patrick was Malcolm's second son, but everyone knew Patrick had separated himself from Bannon Logistics years ago.
He still loved his family.
He just didn't want their business.
Cody was different.
Cody was young.
Malleable, Malcolm probably thought.
Someone who could be shaped.
“You're sixteen,” I said. “Nobody is deciding your life tonight.”
Malcolm ignored me.
“Shawn spent the last year preparing something.”
Dean reached into a cabinet and retrieved another folder.
He placed it before Malcolm.
“This company will eventually require someone with the Bannon name.”
Patrick stood.
“Enough.”
For the first time, anger entered his voice.
“My brother isn't even buried two weeks and you're assigning his job to my kid?”
Malcolm remained calm.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
Cody looked at his father with relief.
I did too.
Then Malcolm said, “You know what happens if an outsider takes control.”
Patrick froze.
I saw fear.
Real fear.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
Cody suddenly stood.
“I need air.”
I followed him.
He walked through the terrace doors and kept going until we reached the garden.
“Mom.”
“I know.”
“I don't want this.”
“You won't have it.”
“You don't understand.”
His voice cracked.
“I think Uncle Shawn knew.”
My heart stopped.
“Knew what?”
Cody looked toward the house.
“He came to see me two days before he died.”
Nobody had told me.
“What did he say?”
Cody's breathing became uneven.
“He told me if Grandpa ever started talking about legacy after he was gone, I should leave.”
A chill moved through me.
“Why?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
“Did you tell Dad?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Uncle Shawn made me promise.”
He reached into his coat.
Then he handed me something.
A small brass key.
“He gave me this.”
I stared at it.
“To what?”
“I don't know.”
Behind us, the terrace door opened.
Malcolm stepped outside.
His gaze dropped to my hand.
And for the first time all evening, the calm disappeared from his face.
“Where,” he asked slowly, “did you get that key?”
Cody moved behind me.
I closed my fist.
Malcolm took one step forward.
“Jillian.”
I had spent eight years trying to become part of the Bannon family.
May you like
That night I finally understood something.
The safest place for Cody might be anywhere the Bannons couldn't reach him.
