Mark smiled up at Lucas. “Hey, champ,” he said.
Lucas stiffened at the nickname.
Elena’s posture shifted subtly, protective.
Mark’s gaze flicked to Elena, assessing. Then back to Jonathan, who had reached the stairs.
“Jonathan,” Mark said smoothly, “we should talk.”
Jonathan’s jaw tightened. “Now?”
Mark leaned closer, lowering his voice. “It’s important.”
Jonathan’s instincts, those old instincts that built his fortune, flared.
He turned to Elena. “Can you stay with Lucas?”
Elena nodded.
Jonathan followed Mark toward the office.
The door shut behind them.
Mark’s smile faded. He pulled a USB drive from his pocket and set it on Jonathan’s desk like a playing card.
Jonathan stared. “What is that?”
Mark said, calmly, “Insurance.”
Jonathan’s blood went cold. “Explain.”
Mark leaned back in the leather chair like he owned it. “Those cameras you removed,” he said, “the feeds were routed through a central server. I helped set it up. I kept backups.”
Jonathan’s vision narrowed. “You kept backups?”
Mark shrugged. “Standard security practice.”
Jonathan’s voice shook with restrained rage. “You told me it was private.”
“It was,” Mark said, unbothered. “Until you decided to get sentimental and dismantle your protection system. Now you’re vulnerable.”
Jonathan’s hands clenched. “What do you want?”
Mark’s gaze sharpened. “Your merger,” he said. “You’ve been cutting security budget. You’ve been changing priorities. You’ve got a new… influence in your home.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the door, meaning Elena. “I’m not sure you’re making the right calls anymore.”
Jonathan’s breath came fast. “You’re blackmailing me.”
Mark spread his hands. “I’m ensuring you remain rational.”
Jonathan’s mind raced. If Mark had footage of Lucas, footage of private moments, grief, tears, it could be weaponized. Not just publicly, but legally. Ethically. It could destroy Lucas.
Jonathan’s chest burned.
He stood slowly. “Give me that drive.”
Mark smiled. “No.”
Jonathan’s voice dropped. “Mark, you are threatening my child.”
Mark’s expression remained flat. “I’m protecting the company.”
Jonathan took a step forward, and for a moment he wondered if he might actually hit him, like a man from an older century.
Then he heard a crash outside.
A sharp sound, followed by voices.
Jonathan’s heart slammed against his ribs. He rushed to the door and flung it open.
The living room was chaos.
A guest had tripped over the edge of a rug, spilling champagne. People clustered, murmuring, laughing awkwardly.
But that wasn’t what froze Jonathan.
Lucas’s wheelchair was rolling toward the foyer, fast.
Too fast.
Lucas’s hands were not on the rims.
Elena was sprinting after him, face tight with alarm.
Jonathan’s blood turned to ice.
Lucas’s chair hit the threshold of the front doorway where the marble dipped slightly. The wheels wobbled.
Outside, the front steps dropped toward the driveway.
If Lucas rolled out, he could flip.
Jonathan ran.
So did Elena.
Lucas’s chair lurched forward, and Jonathan saw, with horror, the thin fishing line attached to the back wheel, almost invisible against the glossy floor.
Someone had pulled him.
Someone had used Lucas as a distraction.
Jonathan’s mind snapped into a terrible clarity.
Mark.
The gala. The chaos. The blackmail.
Jonathan lunged, grabbing the handles of Lucas’s chair just as it reached the edge.
Elena reached them a heartbeat later, bracing the side, her body between Lucas and the doorway like a shield.
Lucas’s face was white with fear.
“Dad?” he gasped.
Jonathan’s hands shook on the handles. “I’ve got you,” he said, voice fierce. “I’ve got you.”
Elena’s eyes darted to the line. She yanked it free, snapping it with a hard pull.
The murmurs around them grew louder as people realized something was wrong.
Jonathan turned, scanning faces, and saw Mark at the edge of the crowd, expression controlled, already calculating escape.
Jonathan’s voice cut through the room.
“Mark Dresser,” he said loudly.
Mark froze.
Everyone turned.
Jonathan’s chest heaved. He pointed at Mark with a hand that trembled with rage.
“Get out of my house,” Jonathan said, each word heavy. “Now.”
Mark lifted his hands in mock innocence. “Jonathan, I think you’re overreacting.”
Jonathan stepped forward, leaving Lucas with Elena. “You backed up footage of my son without consent,” Jonathan said, loud enough for the room to hear. “You threatened to use it. And you just tried to harm him to distract me.”
Gasps rippled through the guests.
Mark’s face hardened. “You have no proof.”
Jonathan’s voice went ice-cold. “I don’t need proof for this.” He gestured toward the front door. “Out.”
Mark smiled thinly. “You’re making a scene.”
Jonathan leaned in, eyes burning. “Good,” he said. “Let them see it.”
Elena, still beside Lucas, spoke quietly but firmly. “Call the police,” she said to one of the staff, not asking.
A house manager nodded, already dialing.
Mark’s eyes flicked toward the exits, calculating, then back to Jonathan. His jaw tightened.
He turned and walked out, shoulders stiff.
Jonathan watched him go, then turned back to Lucas.
Lucas’s chest rose and fell fast. His hands trembled.
Jonathan knelt in front of him, ignoring the crowd, ignoring the gala, ignoring the world.
“I’m sorry,” Jonathan whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
Lucas swallowed hard. “He… he pulled me,” Lucas said, voice shaking.
“I know,” Jonathan said. “But you’re safe. You’re safe.”
Elena knelt beside them, her hand lightly on Lucas’s arm, steadying without smothering.
Lucas looked at her, eyes wet. “I was scared,” he admitted.
Elena nodded. “Of course you were.”
Jonathan’s voice cracked. “I let that man into our life.”
Elena’s gaze sharpened. “You can remove him,” she said simply. “And you can teach Lucas something from it.”
Jonathan blinked through tears. “What?”
Elena’s voice softened. “That when danger comes, you don’t hide him behind cameras. You stand in front of him. You show up.”
Jonathan felt the words settle into him like a verdict.
He stood, turned to the stunned guests, and said, voice shaking but clear, “The event is over.”
People murmured, confused, but no one argued with the look on his face.
Within minutes, the mansion emptied.
The quiet that followed was different from the old quiet.
It wasn’t silence from avoidance.
It was silence from protection.
That night, Jonathan sat on Lucas’s bed.
Lucas lay under a blanket Elena had tucked with her usual care. His eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.
Jonathan didn’t rush to speak.
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