Chapter 196
Serena
I watched in growing disbelief as the mood in the room shifted like sand beneath my feet. Sympathy, doubt, unease—all of it directed not at Felix, the man who'd orchestrated kidnappings and attempted murders, but at his poor, sick father who just wanted to see his only son.
And Felix—
I caught it in my peripheral vision. Just a flicker, so fast I might have imagined it. But no. There it was again. The tiniest curve at the corner of his mouth. Not quite a smile. More like satisfaction.
He was enjoying this.
"Grandfather." Felix's voice rang out, suddenly stronger, more present than it had been since the tribunal began. He lifted his head, and I saw tears—actual tears—streaming down his face. "Grandfather, please. I know what I did was unforgivable. I know I brought shame to this family."
He paused, letting out a sob that sounded almost genuine.
"Take everything," he continued, his voice breaking. "Every share, every dollar, every privilege I've ever enjoyed as a Lawson. Strip me of all of it. I don't care. But please—" Another sob. "Please don't send me where my father can never see me again. He's your son, Grandfather. Your only living son. Even if you don't care about me, don't you care about him?"
His voice rose, desperate now, playing to the crowd. "If my exile makes his condition worse, if the stress kills him—that would be on me too, wouldn't it? Another death I'd be responsible for. Could you live with that? Could I?"
Arthur's face, which had been set in stone throughout the proceedings, began to waver. I saw doubt creep into his eyes, saw his shoulders sag slightly under the weight of Thomas's illness and Felix's performance.
No. No, no, no.
This couldn't be happening. They couldn't actually be falling for this.
Arthur opened his mouth, clearly preparing to speak, to perhaps reconsider, and I felt Lance's entire body go rigid beside me.
Then—
"Arthur!"
Every head in the room swiveled toward the source of that voice.
Wesley stood in the shadows near the back of the hall, and for a moment I barely recognized him. Gone was the uncertain, defensive boy I'd dated for three years. The man standing there now held himself differently—straighter, more grounded, like someone who'd finally figured out who he was and stopped apologizing for it.
"Don't you dare go soft on him," Wesley said, his voice carrying across the space with absolute clarity. No hesitation. No second-guessing. Just cold, hard certainty. "Felix is a cancer. A threat to everyone in this family. Sending him to Greenland is too good for him, if you ask me."
The room erupted into shocked whispers. Wesley Lawson, the family disappointment, the trust fund baby who'd never had a serious thought in his life—speaking out against a senior family member with that kind of conviction?
Felix's mask slipped for just a second. I saw pure rage flash across his face before he smoothed it away, but it was too late. I'd seen it. And from the way Lance's hand tightened around mine, he had too.
Thomas, however, recovered faster.
"Wesley!" His voice took on a warmth that made my skin crawl. "My goodness, how you've grown! I haven't seen you since—when was it? Your eighteenth birthday?"
He chuckled, the sound wet and wheezing. "But of course you'd speak against Felix. Everyone knows about the bad blood between you and Lance. Though I must say, I'm surprised you've expanded your grudge to include Felix as well. What did he ever do to you?"
Wesley opened his mouth, but Thomas was already turning back to the assembled family, his expression shifting into something almost pitying.
"Actually," he said, his voice taking on a confidential tone, "since Wesley has chosen to involve himself, perhaps it's time we discussed the full context of this situation. The parts that have been... conveniently omitted."
I felt a chill run down my spine. Beside me, Lance had gone completely still.
"Yes," Thomas continued, warming to his theme now, playing to the crowd with the skill of a seasoned performer. "Felix made terrible choices. Unforgivable choices. But his initial motivation—his reason for starting down this path—was actually rather... understandable."
Arthur frowned. "Thomas, what are you—"
"He was trying to help Wesley."
The words dropped into the silence like stones into still water.
Thomas pointed first at Lance and me, standing together, then swept his arm to indicate Wesley in the shadows. "My son Felix," he said, his voice rising with theatrical emphasis, "kidnapped Serena not out of malice, not out of greed, but because he was trying to help his cousin. Because Wesley's girlfriend—" He paused, letting the word hang in the air. "—was stolen by his own uncle."
The room exploded.