Logan gave a short, uneasy laugh.
“So this is some kind of test? Emma brings her billionaire boyfriend to scare everyone, and suddenly we are monsters because she cooked one meal?”
“Fiancé,” Alexander corrected.
Logan rolled his eyes.
“Fine.
Fiancé.
The point is, no one forced her to stay in the kitchen.”
I looked at the silver bell near my mother’s hand.
Then I looked at the empty space along the table where an extra chair could easily have fit.
“You rang for me eleven times,” I said.
My mother withdrew her hand from the bell.
One of my younger cousins lowered his eyes.
He had laughed the first three times.
Now he looked ashamed.
Vanessa folded her napkin carefully.
“Emma, you know Mom can be demanding.
Why turn this into something bigger?”
“Because it is bigger,” I said.
“It has always been bigger.”
She frowned.
“We all made sacrifices when Dad’s company struggled.”
“Name yours.”
Vanessa opened her mouth, then closed it.
I turned to Logan.
“Name yours.”
His face darkened.
“I work in the company.”
“You received a salary before you finished college.
Dad paid your rent for four years.”
“That is business.”
“No,” Alexander said.
“That is protection.”
My father squared his shoulders.
“I will not be judged in my own home by a man who does not understand what it takes to keep a family business alive.”
Alexander’s expression remained calm.
“I understand more than you think.”
He tapped the black folder.
Richard’s anger vanished almost immediately.
The proposed contract inside involved renovating and supplying several properties in Alexander’s hotel group.
It would have stabilized my father’s company after years of declining work.
Richard had spoken about it constantly, though he never knew I was connected to the man making the final decision.
My mother rose and placed a hand on my father’s arm.
“This is Thanksgiving,” she said softly.
“We should not mix family tensions with business.”
Alexander looked at her hand, then at the untouched place settings surrounding the table.
“You mixed them before I arrived,” he said.
“You treated the daughter you considered unsuccessful as staff.
The moment you learned she was connected to my business, you called her family.”
“That is insulting,” Diane said.
“It is accurate,” I replied.
My voice did not shake this time.
My father turned toward me.
“What do you want, Emma?”
For the first time that evening, someone had asked.
But the question was not an act of love.
His eyes kept returning to the folder.
