Chapter 260
Lance
The room shifted.
One moment, we were scattered—fragments of a family pretending at civility. The next, chairs scraped against linoleum as everyone moved with silent coordination, forming a semicircle around Thomas like wolves closing in on prey. He sat at the center, isolated, yet somehow still managing to look amused by the whole production.
Diana snapped her fingers at the glass wall separating us from the observation room. Through the transparent barrier, I could see two officers who'd been hunched over computers, downloading files and cross-referencing databases for the past hour. They immediately grabbed armfuls of manila folders and burst through the door, depositing their cargo on the table before retreating without a word.
The files spread across the surface like evidence at a crime scene. Dozens of pages, densely packed with text and photographs. But it was the image on top that made my breath catch—my mother's face, beautiful and ethereal even in grainy newsprint, staring up at us from beneath a headline that might as well have been carved into my chest with a knife.
"Lawson Heir's Mysterious Lover, Grace Briar—Promising Student at Columbia—Found Dead at Saint's Bay in Apparent Suicide"
The tension in the room crystallized into something almost tangible. I could feel it pressing against my skin, see it in the way Arthur's shoulders hunched forward as if bearing physical weight, in the tight line of Eleanor's mouth as she stared at the photograph. Even Serena's carefully controlled expression cracked, her face pale as she glanced at me with unmistakable concern.
My grandfather's face was a study in controlled anguish, his eyebrows drawn together in an expression I recognized too well—guilt, shame, and the desperate attempt to suppress both. Eleanor's reaction was more complex, anger flickering beneath her carefully maintained composure. I understood that, even if I didn't like it. My mother's death had led directly to her marriage to my father, and my father's suicide had left her a widow before their first anniversary. She'd spent thirty years being treated like a bad omen by New York society, the woman who'd replaced a dead saint and somehow managed to kill her replacement husband too.
But Thomas.
Thomas looked almost pleased.
No trace of remorse shadowed his features. Instead, a small smile played at the corners of his mouth as he surveyed the files, the assembled family, the whole theatrical setup Diana had orchestrated. When he spoke, his voice carried the lazy confidence of a man who believed himself untouchable.
"What's all this about?" He leaned back in his chair, the picture of casual indifference. "Dragging up old miseries everyone would rather forget? Going to traumatize the family all over again with ancient history?"
He let his gaze drift across each face before settling on me with calculated precision.
"Lance, you know nobody actually wants to dig into this. Your mother—God rest her soul—was a painful chapter for all of us. Especially given her... background." The pause was deliberate, designed to wound. "Made our family the talk of the town for all the wrong reasons. Though I suppose I shouldn't take credit for that observation. Those were your grandfather's exact words, weren't they, Dad? 'That common woman has made us the laughingstock of society.'"
Arthur's head dropped so fast I heard his neck crack. The shame radiating off him was almost palpable, decades of regret compressed into a single moment of exposure.
Something ignited in my chest—rage so pure and hot it felt like swallowing molten metal. My vision narrowed until all I could see was Thomas's smug face, that fucking smile that said he knew exactly how deep the knife had gone.
"Say that again." My voice came out low, dangerous, barely recognizable as my own. "I fucking dare you to mention my mother one more time."
My hands gripped the armrests hard enough that the wood creaked in protest. Every muscle in my body coiled tight, ready to launch myself across the space between us and wipe that expression off his face permanently.
Serena's hand found my arm, her touch gentle but grounding. "Don't let him bait you," she murmured, just loud enough for me to hear.
Diana's voice cut through the tension like a blade through silk. "Thomas, stop wasting everyone's time. I know exactly what you're trying to do, and it won't work. Let's begin, shall we?"