The Dinner

The family dinner was a theater of the macabre. The chandeliers sparkled, the silver gleamed, and the silence was heavy enough to break teeth. Elena sat across from Julian, watching him push peas around his plate. He looked like a man waiting for the executioner.

Constance sat at the head of the table, cutting her roast beef with precise, surgical strokes. She wasn't eating. She was dissecting.

"You're not hungry, Elena?" Constance asked, not looking up.

"I'm fine," Elena said. She took a sip of water. It tasted metallic, like adrenaline.

"Dr. Thorne says loss of appetite is a side effect of the new medication," Constance said. "You should listen to him. He only wants what's best for you."

"Is that why he tried to sedate me in the server room?" Elena asked.

Julian dropped his fork. It clattered loudly against the china.

"Clumsy," Constance murmured.

"Why did you marry me, Julian?" Elena asked, ignoring her.

Julian looked up. His eyes were wide, darting between Elena and his mother. "What?"

"It's a simple question," Elena said. "Why me? Why not one of the debutantes? Why not someone with money? Connections?"

"Elena, not now," Julian whispered.

"Answer her," Constance said. She put down her knife. She smiled, a thin, wintry expression. "I think it's time we cleared the air. Don't you?"

Julian swallowed. He looked at Elena, his face pale and sweating.

"Because I loved you," he said. "Because you were smart. And kind. And... real."

"Was it because I was real?" Elena asked. "Or was it because I was broken?"

She reached into her pocket. She didn't pull out the will. She pulled out the folded printout of the email.

She slid it across the table.

It stopped next to Julian’s wine glass.

"Read it," Elena said.

Julian stared at the paper. He didn't touch it.

"Read it!"

He picked it up. His hands shook so badly the paper rattled. He read the first few lines. Then he stopped. He looked at his mother.

Constance didn't flinch. She took a sip of wine. "It was a necessary vetting process. We have standards."

"Standards?" Elena laughed, a harsh, jagged sound. "You vetted my uterus, Constance. You hired a PI to make sure I couldn't give your son a child."

"And?" Constance shrugged. "The bloodline is secure. Maya is the heir. Any other children would simply dilute the trust. It was a practical consideration."

"Practical?" Elena looked at Julian. "Is that what you call it? Practical?"

"She... she told me it was for the best," Julian stammered. "She said you wouldn't feel pressured. She said it would take the burden off."

"The burden?" Elena felt a wave of nausea. "I wanted a family, Julian. I told you that on our second date. And you lied. You let me believe we were trying. You let me cry every month when the test was negative. You let me take the hormones, the shots, the invasive exams. And you knew. You knew the whole time."

"I didn't want to hurt you," he whispered.

"You didn't want to hurt your mother," Elena corrected. "You chose her. Just like you chose her over Isabel."

"Isabel was sick," Constance said sharply. "She was unstable."

"Isabel was murdered," Elena said. "And you know it."

She looked at Julian. He was staring at the email, tears leaking from his eyes. But there was something else in his face. Not just guilt.

Relief.

"It made things simpler, El," he said softly. "No heirs. No competition. Just us."

He looked up at her, his eyes pleading.

"I did it for us."

Elena stared at him. The man she had slept next to for three years. The man she had comforted when he cried about his father. The man she thought was her partner.

He wasn't a victim. He was a co-conspirator.

"No," Elena said, standing up. "You did it for yourself. Because you're too weak to be a father. And too cowardly to be a husband."

She turned to Constance.

"I have the will," she said. "Isabel’s will. Naming me guardian."

Constance froze. The wine glass stopped halfway to her mouth.

"That's impossible," she said. "We destroyed it."

"You destroyed the copy in the safe," Elena said. "But Isabel was smarter than you. She hid the original."

She pulled the second paper from her pocket. The will.

"It's over, Constance. I'm taking Maya. And I'm taking the money."

Constance put the glass down. Very carefully.

"You think a piece of paper matters?" she asked. Her voice was low, vibrating with menace. "You think you can just walk out of here with my granddaughter and my fortune?"

"Watch me," Elena said.

"Julian," Constance said.

Julian looked up. He wiped his face. He looked at his mother, then at his wife.

"Get the gun," Constance said.

Julian stood up. He reached into his jacket.

He pulled out the gun Elena had left on the nightstand. The service revolver.

He pointed it at Elena’s chest.

"I'm sorry, El," he said. "But she's right. You're not well."