Chapter 5 - The Gala Rebellion
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"I am not wearing it!"
Ben's voice echoed down the grand staircase, followed by the sound of a velvet bowtie hitting the marble floor.
It was Saturday evening. Pedro was hosting a massive charity gala at the estate, a crucial event for his company's public image. He had ordered the boys to be dressed in miniature tuxedos for a press photo op.
Pedro stood in the foyer, adjusting his own cuffs, his patience wearing dangerously thin.
"Benjamin, pick that up right now," Pedro commanded, his voice echoing with authority.
"No! It looks like what we wore to Mom's funeral!" Ben screamed, tears streaming down his face.
Pedro froze. The words hit him like a physical blow, stripping away his CEO armor in an instant. He didn't know what to say. He looked at the bowtie on the floor, suddenly feeling as though the walls of his own house were closing in on him.
Abigail stepped out from the library, assessing the situation in a fraction of a second. She walked calmly to the stairs, picking up the discarded bowtie.
"Mr. Jacobs," Abigail said softly, not looking at the boys, but directly at Pedro. "The press only needs to see that your sons are healthy and happy. They do not need to see them in trauma."
"The photographer is waiting," Pedro argued weakly, his voice betraying his inner turmoil.
"Then let them photograph a father, not a prop," she replied.
She turned to the boys.
"Go put on your nice dark jeans and your favorite blue sweaters," Abigail instructed. "You have five minutes."
The boys didn't argue. They sprinted back up the stairs.
Pedro stared at Abigail, his jaw tight. "I gave them a direct order."
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"And they gave you a direct boundary," Abigail countered, stepping closer to him. "They are not your employees, Pedro. They are your children. If you force them to wear a uniform of grief, they will hate you for it."
It was the first time she had used his first name. The sound of it sent a strange, electric jolt through his chest, leaving him utterly speechless as the doorbell rang.
