Chapter 1
The heavy oak doors of the Richmond dining room seemed to amplify the quiet hum of the antique wall clock, but the true weight in the room came from the manila folders resting neatly against the roasted turkey. Mother adjusted her thin reading glasses, her refined fingers smoothing the edge of a legal document as if she were unveiling a masterpiece. She didn't look at Craig, whose light-blue shirt sleeves were neatly rolled to his forearms; her entire gaze was locked onto Garrett, her golden brooch catching the warm amber glow of the chandelier. The tension had been building since the first pour of red wine, a suffocating aura of domestic hierarchy that Sloan could feel vibrating right through the fabric of her cream-colored cardigan. When Mother finally parted her lips, her voice carried the self-righteous certainty of a woman who believed she was administering divine justice rather than family alienation. "Garrett gets four hundred thousand dollars. And the house," she announced, her tone ringing with an unsettling pride that made Garrett’s eyebrows arch just a fraction. He leaned forward into the golden light, his arms loosely crossed over his navy cardigan, a quiet, shameful satisfaction playing at the corners of his mouth. Sloan’s head whipped instantly toward Craig, her brown eyes widening in protective disbelief as she witnessed the calculated cruelty of the distribution. Craig remained motionless, the space between them suddenly feeling like a chasm of glass about to shatter. His jaw tightened so hard a muscle twitched near his stubble, yet he uttered no sound, letting the suffocating silence swallow the echoes of his mother's declaration. Sloan reached under the table, pressing her palm firmly against his knee in a silent gesture of solidarity, while Garrett deliberately cast his gaze downward to avoid the burning intensity of his younger brother's stare. "It’s only fair, considering how much Garrett has invested of his time and heart into this family estate over the years," Mother added, blindly digging the knife deeper into the unspoken wound. Craig let out a single, measured breath through his nose, his expressive brown eyes turning from hurt to a chilling, vacant stillness. He slowly turned his head to face the woman who had birthed him, realizing in that exact second that four years of silent sacrifice, sleepless nights managing her emergency funds, and quiet bank transfers had meant less than a drop of water in the ocean of her blatant favoritism. "Time and heart," Craig repeated internally, tasting the bitter irony on his tongue. Sloan squeezed his knee harder, her voice a soft, trembling whisper that only he could catch over the crackle of the dining room candles. "Don't say anything yet, Craig, please," she murmured, her chest rising and falling with anxious breaths. Craig didn't look at her; his gaze remained locked on the crisp white paper that relegated his entire existence to a footnote of maternal indifference.
