Chapter 3 - The Slap Heard Around the Room
Daniel hissed, desperation finally breaking through his polished exterior. "You don't understand, Dad! It was a bridge loan! I was going to replace the funds before the end of the fiscal quarter! The market shifted, and—"
Before Daniel could finish the sentence, Arthur’s right arm whipped through the air with terrifying speed.
Crack.
The sound of flesh striking flesh echoed off the restaurant walls like a gunshot.
Daniel stumbled sideways, crashing against the mahogany back of an empty chair before catching his balance. He clutched his left cheek, where a bright red, five-fingered handprint began to bloom across his skin. He stared at his father in absolute, paralyzed disbelief, his mouth hanging open.
Nobody moved. Nobody breathed. Twenty-two family members sat frozen in their seats, witnesses to the total collapse of the golden boy of the Mercer family.
Arthur lowered his hand, his chest heaving slightly under his blazer, his knuckles white. He pointed a steady, unwavering finger toward the heavy double doors at the entrance of the private room.
"Get out," Arthur commanded, his voice shaking with a cold, terrifying authority.
Daniel pressed a hand to his burning cheek, his eyes darting frantically around the room, looking for a single uncle, cousin, or sibling to rise to his defense. Every single face he met was averted or hardened in disgust. Even his sister Rebecca was glaring at him with undisguised contempt.
"Dad, please, we need to talk about this in private," Daniel stammered, his voice losing all its prior arrogance, devolving into a pathetic, whiny plea. "You can't do this to me in front of—"
"I said, get out," Arthur roared, stepping forward so menacingly that Daniel instinctively recoiled. "Both of you. Get out of my sight before I call the police and have you dragged out in handcuffs."
Vanessa, realizing that the ship was not just sinking, but exploding into a million pieces, didn't wait for Daniel. She grabbed her leather handbag off the back of the chair, turned on her high heels, and hurried toward the double doors, practically fleeing the private room without looking back once.
Daniel stood frozen for a second longer, humiliation and panic warring on his face. He looked down at me, as if expecting me to intervene, to save him from his father’s wrath the way I had covered for his flaws for five long years.
I didn't say a word. I simply picked up my wine glass, took a slow, calm sip, and looked away.
With a muttered curse, Daniel turned on his heel and rushed out the door, the heavy oak slamming shut behind him with a dull, echoing thud.
For nearly thirty seconds, nobody in the room uttered a sound. The crystal chandelier hummed softly overhead.
Then Arthur let out a long, ragged breath, straightening his tie with trembling hands. He walked back to the head of the table, pulled out his chair, and sat down heavily, looking suddenly every bit of his seventy years.
He looked across the table, his tired eyes landing directly on me.
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"Claire, my dear," Arthur said, his voice cracking slightly. "I am so, so sorry. You deserved infinitely better than that miserable thief."
Linda reached across the table, taking both of my hands in hers, her eyes swimming with tears. "You're staying with us tonight, Claire. And starting tomorrow, we're going to make sure he pays for every single lie."
