Dinner with Wolves

The barrel of the gun was steady. Julian’s hand was not.

"Drop the tire iron, Elena." His voice was tight, strained, the voice of a man reciting lines he hadn't fully memorized.

Elena lowered the iron slowly. She didn't drop it. "You're going to shoot me, Julian? Here? With the staff setting up for dinner and the auditors in the library?"

"I don't want to." He took a step closer, the gun unwavering. It was a small pistol, sleek and black, something that looked more like an accessory than a weapon. But the hole at the end was real enough. "Just step away from the box. We can still fix this."

"Fix it how?" Elena asked. "By framing me for embezzlement? By drugging me? By using my fingerprint while I slept?"

Julian flinched. "It was necessary. The bridge loan required a guarantor with a clean history. You were the only one left."

"So you sacrificed me. Just like you sacrificed Isabel."

"Isabel was sick!" he shouted, the composure cracking. "She was unstable! She threatened to expose everything just because she couldn't handle the pressure. I tried to help her. I tried!"

"You helped her die," Elena said softly.

The sound of a car engine cut through the tension. A black SUV was coming up the drive. The auditors were leaving. Or maybe more were arriving.

Julian glanced toward the noise, just for a fraction of a second.

Elena threw the tire iron.

It wasn't an elegant throw. It was desperate and clumsy, aimed not at him, but at the open utility box.

The iron struck the tangle of wires with a spark and a sickening crunch. The fiber optic cable snapped.

The lights in the carriage house flickered and died.

Julian fired.

The shot went wide, hitting the brick wall behind her. Elena scrambled sideways, diving into the tall grass behind the hedge.

"Elena!" he screamed.

She didn't stop. She crawled, ignoring the brambles tearing at her clothes. She needed to get back to the main house. She needed witnesses. She needed the dinner.

The sun was setting as she reached the side door. She slipped inside, breathless, her blouse torn, her hands muddy.

She ran into the dining room.

The table was set. Crystal, silver, linen. And seated at the head of the table, looking perfectly composed, was Constance. Seraphina was to her right.

They looked up as Elena burst in.

"Good heavens," Constance said, placing her napkin on the table. "Look at you. You're a mess."

Elena gripped the back of a chair. "He tried to kill me. Julian. He has a gun."

Constance didn't look shocked. She didn't look afraid. She looked... disappointed.

"Sit down, Elena," she said calmly. "We have guests arriving in twenty minutes. You really must pull yourself together."

"Did you hear me?" Elena shouted. "He shot at me!"

"He missed," Seraphina said, taking a sip of wine. "Julian always had poor aim."

The front door opened. Julian walked in. He had holstered the gun. He had smoothed his hair. He looked winded, but composed.

"I found her," he said to his mother. "She was having an episode in the garden. Hallucinating."

"I see," Constance said. She gestured to the empty chair opposite Seraphina. "Sit, Elena. We need to review the audit findings before dinner."

Elena looked between them. The gaslighting was absolute. They were going to pretend he hadn't just tried to murder her. They were going to serve the soup and discuss the weather while she bled out internally.

She looked at the place setting. A folder was waiting on her plate.

"Open it," Constance said.

Elena sat down. Her legs wouldn't have held her up much longer anyway. She opened the folder.

It was the audit report.

**Finding: Irregularities in the Legacy Fund.**
**Responsible Party: Elena Hawthorne, Trustee.**
**Action: Immediate seizure of personal assets.**

And at the bottom, a signature.

Her signature. Dated tomorrow.

"We decided to expedite the filing," Constance said, pouring herself more water. "Since you seemed so... unstable. It was the only way to protect the family."