Chapter 2 - A Lesson in Cruelty
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“No! Grandpa, please!” Ethan begged, grabbing my sleeve with frozen fingers. “She’ll get angry!”
“Who will get angry?” I asked, though deep down, I already knew the answer.
Before Ethan could answer, the heavy mahogany front door of the mansion swung open. Warm yellow light spilled across the icy stone steps. Victoria appeared in the doorway, framed by the festive glow of the foyer. My son’s second wife was wearing a sleeveless silver evening dress under a white fur coat, an expensive crystal champagne flute held loosely in her manicured hand.
She looked down the driveway at me, then at Ethan wrapped in my coat, and let out a long, irritated sigh.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Arthur,” she called out, stepping onto the porch. “You’re early.”
I felt something dark and dangerous ignite in my chest. I marched toward the steps, holding Ethan close to my side.
“What is he doing outside in the snow, Victoria?”
Victoria crossed her arms, entirely unbothered by the freezing wind.
“He’s learning a lesson,” she replied coldly.
I looked down at my grandson’s bare, red feet, then back up at her immaculate face.
“A lesson? He’s suffering from frostbite!”
“You’re being dramatic,” Victoria said, taking a casual sip of her champagne. “He was told he could come back inside the moment he was ready to apologize to me.”
“Apologize for what?”
“Stealing,” Victoria snapped, her blue eyes narrowing.
Ethan immediately looked up from beneath my coat, his voice cracking with desperation.
“I didn’t steal anything!”
“Quiet!” Victoria’s voice cracked like a whip through the snowy night air.
Ethan flinched violently, pulling back into my side. That tiny, instinctive movement told me everything I needed to know about how often he had heard that terrifying tone behind closed doors.
I stepped directly between Victoria and my grandson, blocking her view of him.
“What did he supposedly steal, Victoria?”
“Two hundred dollars,” she said smoothly, though she hesitated for a fraction of a second. “Directly out of my handbag on the kitchen counter.”
“I didn’t take it, Grandpa,” Ethan whispered against my waist. “I swear on Mom’s memory, I didn’t take it.”
“I know you didn’t, kiddo,” I said softly, keeping my eyes locked on Victoria.
Victoria let out a condescending laugh.
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“You don’t know anything, Arthur. You just arrived. You don’t live here.”
“No,” I spat back. “But I know my grandson. And I know a cruel lie when I hear one.”
