Chapter 9 - The Mask Slips
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Silas returned to the grand estate on the Hudson as the sun began to sink behind the frozen hills.
The house was completely empty.
The staff had been given the week off.
The Christmas tree still glittered by the twenty-foot windows, its colored lights reflecting off the empty dining table.
The plates of dried turkey and cold roasted potatoes had been cleared away by the housekeeper, but the scent of evergreen and cold air lingered like a curse.
Silas walked slowly into the dining room.
He sat down in his usual chair at the head of the table.
The chair to his right, Laurel's chair for fifteen years, was empty.
On the white tablecloth, exactly where she had placed it the night before, lay her gold wedding ring.
He picked it up with trembling fingers and pressed it against his lips.
A tear slipped down his face, burning against his skin.
He had built towers of steel and glass.
He had amassed hundreds of millions of dollars.
He had commanded the respect and fear of governors, bankers, and rivals across three continents.
Yet, sitting alone in the silent room, he realized he had never felt so utterly weak.
His phone rang on the table.
It was his mother, Celeste.
He hesitated before pressing the speaker button.
"Ma," he rasped.
"Did you fix it?" Celeste asked, her voice harsh and cutting like broken glass.
"Grant is in custody," Silas whispered.
"The foundation is safe."
"I didn't ask about the money, Silas," his mother snapped.
"I asked about Laurel."
Silas choked on his own breath, unable to answer.
"You fool," Celeste said, her voice cracking with deep sorrow.
May you like
"You spent fifteen years conquering the world, and you destroyed the only person who guarded your back."
The line went dead.
