It was all performance. Every gesture rehearsed.
And Evelyn, both audience and director, missed nothing.
She turned to Julia. Her voice warmed slightly.
“Julia, your work shaping the family’s public image has been exemplary. That consistency doesn’t go unnoticed.”
“Thank you,” Julia replied, poised. “We’ve worked hard.”
Evelyn’s lips curved, polite but bloodless. “Of course.”
Her attention slid to Colton, who acknowledged her with a slight lift of his glass.
“And Colton, your discretion has proven… effective. It’s men like you who ensure problems are handled before they become threats.”
Colton inclined his head. Calm. Lethal.
Gideon stilled. Fingers curled beneath the table. Shoulders taut.
He knew the rhythm of her speeches.
Knew what came next.
The strike.
Evelyn’s gaze turned to him like a tide pulling in. Certain. Unstoppable.
The glass in her hand balanced perfectly: weaponized elegance.
“Confidence is important, Gideon,” she said, softening the edge of her tone with enough warmth to be mistaken for concern. “I trust you’re prepared to defend your choices when the cracks begin to show. Because they will.”
The pause wasn’t silence.
It was suffocation.
Tori glanced toward him, lips twitching.
Alex, for once, said nothing.
Sebastian leaned back, watching her the way gamblers do when the dice are still in the air.
Gideon didn’tflinch.
“I stand by my choices, Mother,” he said. “All of them.”
Evelyn’s smile returned—slower. Purposeful.
She lifted her glass, sipped, then set it down with the finality of a closing ledger.
“Let’s hope so,” she murmured. “Because those choices won’t cost only you.”
It wasn’t a threat.
It was a collar.
And Gideon felt the weight of it tighten, link by link.
Conversation resumed. Laughter. Posed smiles.
