Chapter 4 - The Silent Dinner
At 6:30 PM, I executed the next phase of our counter-operation.
I had Thomas drive the Escalade back onto the property with its headlights blazing, engine humming loud enough to announce my return. I stepped out of the vehicle carrying my briefcase, loosening my tie as if exhausted from a grueling day of canceled meetings.
When I pushed open the heavy oak front doors, Wendy was already standing in the foyer, wearing her customary silk cardigan and a smile that didn't reach her pale, predatory eyes.
"Harrison!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with artificial warmth. "What on earth happened? Jessi called from the city and said your Chicago summit was delayed!"
"Mechanical trouble on the runway at Teterboro," I lied smoothly, hanging my coat in the closet while maintaining absolute control over my heart rate. "The FAA grounded our tail number for twenty-four hours. I had to reschedule the final acquisition signing for tomorrow night here at the local country club with their board representatives."
Wendy’s eyes flickered with a subtle flash of predatory calculation. "Oh, what a dreadful inconvenience! But how wonderful that you get to spend an extra evening with your family. Where is our little princess?"
"Upstairs resting," I replied. "She had a slight stomachache this morning, so Maria kept her in bed."
"Poor darling," Wendy murmured, touching her chest. "Children are so fragile. Sometimes, Harrison, I worry that the sheer stress of your high-powered lifestyle weighs too heavily on such a young soul. Jessi feels it too, you know. She called me in tears this afternoon, so overwhelmed by her gallery duties."
Every muscle in my jaw wanted to clench, but I forced an appreciative sigh. "Thank God you're here to help support her, Wendy. I don't know what we would do without you."
"Family is everything, Harrison," she purred.
At dinner, the tension was thick enough to choke on. Jessi returned from Manhattan looking pale, exhausted, and hollow-eyed—the devastating physical effect of the neuroleptics Wendy had been slipping into her nightly routine. Jessi kissed my cheek with cold, trembling lips, sinking into her chair at the head of the dining table.
"You look so tired, sweetheart," I said gently, taking her frail hand across the table and rubbing her thumb.
"I don't know what's wrong with me lately, Harry," Jessi whispered, her eyes glassing over with unspilt tears. "I keep forgetting client appointments. My thoughts feel like they’re swimming through thick mud. Mom made me some chamomile tea before I left, but it only made me dizzier."
Across the table, Wendy took a delicate sip of her wine. "It's just burnout, darling. You inherited your father’s sensitive nervous system. Harrison, dear, you really ought to take some of the pressure off her. Let her step back from public life for a few months."
"Perhaps you're right, Wendy," I said, keeping my tone mild and accommodating. "In fact, I was thinking tonight that I need to update our family trust designations before the acquisition goes live tomorrow. I have the master security drive in my home office safe right now. Once that deal closes, everything we own will be tied to that token."
Wendy’s fork paused in mid-air. "In your study safe? The one behind the painting?"
May you like
"Yes," I said, taking a calm cut of my steak. "I need to review the cryptographic authorizations after dinner before locking it away for tomorrow's transfer."
I watched Wendy’s throat move as she swallowed hard. The bait was in the water.
