Chapter 9
Jason's POV
I was sprawled lazily across the couch, fully focused on trying to beat the next level of my game when my mother's voice interrupted my concentration. I looked up to see her staring at her phone in disbelief.
"What's wrong, Mom?" I asked, one eye still on my paused game.
"That... that woman has refused to come home and make dinner," Mom stuttered, clutching her pearl necklace tightly as she always did when angry. "And then she hung up on me!"
I sat up straight, suddenly interested. Grace? Refusing orders? That was new. "Grace? Really?"
Mom began pacing, her high heels making dramatic clicks against our marble floor. "A social climber who can't even give Richard an heir, with such a questionable background. I warned Richard against marrying beneath his station."
I put down my game controller, now fully invested in this topic. This was more interesting than my game. "She always acted so obedient before. Always 'Yes, Margaret' and 'Right away, Margaret.'" I mimicked her voice, making it high-pitched and pathetic. It felt good to mock her. "It was all an act."
"She's gotten too comfortable," Mom sniffed coldly. "Forgotten her place in this family."
I stood up, stretching my arms, a plan already forming in my mind. Grace needed to be taught a lesson. "Don't worry, Mom. I know how to handle her. I'll make her understand her place."
I watched Mom's face soften with pride as she patted my cheek. "That's my good boy. Let her know what happens when she disrespects this family."
---
Sitting in a kitchen chair, I dialed Grace's number, taking a deep breath to prepare my performance.
She answered on the fourth ring. "Hello, Jason."
"Grace?" I deliberately made my voice sound weak and trembling, a trick that always worked on my teachers, especially when I hadn't done my homework. "I... I'm not feeling well."
There was a pause on the other end. I could almost see her sitting up with concern. So predictable.
"What's wrong?" she asked, sounding annoyingly professional.
"I haven't eaten all day," I whimpered, adding a slight tremor to my voice. "Mom's not home, and the chef is off."
I held my breath, waiting for her to give in. She always did.
"Jason," she said slowly, "you're old enough to make yourself something to eat. Make a sandwich, heat up some frozen food—"
"I don't want that shit!" The words flew out before I could stop them, anger punching through the act. "I want what you promised. The steak you always make. That's what Mom said. You're just... you're just being selfish."
Something in her voice changed. Went colder.
"I didn't promise you anything," she said. "Your mother did. And I'm not your chef."
I felt my ears burn. No one ever talked to me like that in this house. Not Mom. Not Richard. They might be mad, but they never made it sound like I didn't matter.
"I could die, you know," I threw back, half stubborn, half desperate. The words tasted dramatic, but I leaned into them anyway. "If something happens to me, it's on you."
I expected her to crack then. She always cracked when I pushed the "fragile Jason" button.
Instead, she sighed. Like she was tired. Of me.
"If you're feeling that bad, call the family doctor," she said. "Or Mom. Or Richard. I'm busy working—for your brother's company, by the way. I'll text you three restaurant numbers. Call and order. Put it on the house account."
Anger flashed through me. Who did she think she was? Time to remind her.
"Remember, Grace," I said, dropping all pretense of weakness, "your position at Harrison Group and everything you have came through our family. Before you start acting so high and mighty, you might want to consider that."
Silence on the other end. I felt like I'd hit a nerve.
"I've texted you the restaurant numbers," she finally answered, infuriatingly calm. "Hope you feel better soon."
The line went dead. I stared at my phone in disbelief. She'd hung up on me. On ME!
Fine. If she wanted to play hardball, I could do better. Now I needed my mother to help with my performance.
---
Richard's POV
In the early evening, just as I finished dinner with Laura, my phone vibrated insistently in my pocket. My mother's name flashed on the screen. I stepped slightly away from the table and answered.
"Mother, I was just about to—"
"Richard, it's Jason!" Her voice was panicked, immediately putting me on high alert. "He's collapsed! The doctor is on his way, but you need to come home immediately!"
My stomach dropped. "What happened? Is he conscious?" I asked urgently, already calculating the fastest route home in my mind.
"It's his blood sugar—he hadn't eaten all day," Mother explained frantically. "Grace refused to come home and cook for him, he waited and waited until he just... collapsed in the kitchen!"
My thoughts raced, trying to process this information. Grace refused? That didn't sound like her. But Jason...
"I'll be right there," I said, ending the call. I turned to Laura. "Darling, you take Emma home, I have a family emergency."
She nodded understandingly. As I walked to my car, I tried to make sense of it all. Grace had always been reliable, considerate. Respectful to my family. This didn't seem like her at all.
---
The atmosphere in the living room was suffocating, the air heavy with the scent of Mother’s expensive lilies and her even more pungent perfume. She was pacing back and forth on the carpet, her heels sinking deep into the soft fabric before springing back up with each step. She looked like a lioness that had been poked with a stick.
"I spent years grooming Jason for the Ivy League," she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. She stopped pacing and pointed a manicured finger at me. "And your... wife... has the nerve to refuse his nutritional needs? The night before his interview prep? Richard, this is deliberate sabotage. Pure sabotage."
I loosened my tie, feeling the stress of the day pressing down on me like a concrete vest. "Mother, maybe she got tied up with work. The IPO preparations are—"
"Work?" Mother scoffed, clutching her pearl necklace—a sure sign she was genuinely angry. "Playing with those little perfume bottles? Jason needs proper nutrition before such an important day. That woman you married seems to have forgotten her place in this family!"
I sighed, not bothering to hide it this time. Mother had never fully accepted Grace, always finding reasons to pick faults. But refusing to help Jason was odd for Grace; she had always been accommodating.
"I'll call her," I said, pulling out my phone.
Mother nodded approvingly. "Remind her where her loyalty should lie."
The call connected after three rings.
"Where are you?" I didn't bother masking my annoyance. "Mother says Jason nearly had a hypoglycemic attack because you wouldn't come home to prepare his meal."
A slight pause. "I am currently discussing a partnership with a client."
I checked my watch. It was nearly 8:00 PM. What kind of client meets this late? "When will you be finished?"
"Hard to say. We are finalizing the terms of cooperation." Her voice was steady. "I left money for Jason so he could order whatever he wanted."
"That’s not the point," I said, forcing my voice to soften. "Send me the address. When you're done, I'll pick you up and take you home to apologize to Mom. Let’s try to keep the peace."
She quickly sent an address. It was an hour's drive away. Without thinking too much about it, I set off immediately.