Chapter 3 3

Dinner was a nightmare of noise.

The dining room table was set for four, but only three people were eating. Leo was not eating. Leo was drumming.

He held a silver fork in one fist and a spoon in the other, banging them rhythmically against the rim of a crystal goblet. Clink. Clink. Smash. Clink.

Eliana sat at her usual spot. She tried to cut her chicken, but the noise was drilling into her temples.

"Hayes," she said softly.

Hayes looked up from his phone. He was scrolling through emails. "Hmm?"

"The noise," Eliana said. "It's crystal."

Felicity laughed lightly. She was feeding Leo a piece of bread. "Oh, Eliana, let him express himself. He's a musical genius in the making. He's just a spirited boy."

Leo, emboldened by his mother's praise, hit the glass harder.

Eliana put her knife down. "It's not about spirit. It's about manners."

Leo stopped drumming. He slid off his chair. He ran around the table, his heavy shoes thudding on the Persian rug. He headed for the fireplace in the adjoining sitting area.

On the mantle, pushed to the far side by Felicity's invasion of photos, sat a single, small silver frame. It was an old, black-and-white photograph of a couple standing in front of a vineyard.

It was the only photo Eliana had of her parents. The only thing she had managed to smuggle out of the Santos estate when she fled at eighteen.

Leo grabbed the frame.

"Ugly!" Leo shouted. "Old people are ugly!"

Eliana's blood went cold.

"Put that down," she said. Her voice was not loud, but it carried a vibration that made the candles on the table flicker.

Leo stuck out his tongue. "No! Uncle Hayes said this is his house! That means it's my house!"

He raised the frame high above his head.

"Leo, no!" Eliana stood up, her chair scraping violently against the floor.

Leo threw it.

He didn't just drop it. He hurled it downward with all the force his five-year-old body could muster.

The sound of the glass shattering on the marble hearth was like a gunshot.

The room went silent.

Eliana stood frozen. She stared at the shards. The photo lay face down amidst the glittering debris.

Leo looked at her, then at the mess. His face crumpled. He opened his mouth and let out a wail that sounded like a siren.

Felicity was out of her chair in a second. She rushed to Leo, falling to her knees to embrace him.

"You scared him!" Felicity screamed at Eliana. "You yelled at him and scared him!"

Hayes rushed over. He looked at the crying boy, then at the broken glass. He recognized the photo. A flash of guilt crossed his face, but it was quickly drowned out by Leo's screams.

"Eliana," Hayes said, his voice stern. "He's a child. You didn't have to lunge at him like that."

Eliana walked toward them. She didn't look at Hayes. She didn't look at Felicity. Her eyes were locked on the photo.

She knelt down.

"Don't touch it," Hayes said. "You'll cut yourself. We'll get the maid to-"

Eliana reached into the jagged pile. Her fingers closed around the photo paper. A shard of glass, sharp as a scalpel, sliced into the pad of her thumb. Another cut her palm.

She didn't flinch. She didn't pull back.

Blood welled up, bright red and fast. It dripped onto the white marble. It smeared onto the corner of the black-and-white photo.

She picked it up. She brushed the glass dust off her mother's face with a bloody thumb.

"It's just a photo," Hayes said, exasperated now. "We can get it restored. I'll pay for it. Stop being dramatic."

Eliana stood up. She clutched the photo to her chest, staining her silk blouse with blood.

"There is no negative," she whispered. "This was the only one."

Hayes ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I didn't know that. Look, I'm sorry, okay? But look at Leo. He's terrified. You need to apologize for screaming."

Eliana slowly raised her eyes to meet his.

Her eyes were dry. They were terrifyingly empty. It was the look of a building that had been controlled-demolished, collapsing inward into dust.

"Apologize?" she asked.

"Yes," Hayes said. "Be the adult here."

Eliana looked at Leo, who was peeking out from Felicity's shoulder, a smirk playing on his tear-stained lips.

She looked at Hayes, the man she had tried to love for three years. The man she had protected from the board, from the press, from his own incompetence.

"I will not," Eliana said.

She turned and walked toward the stairs. Blood dripped from her hand, leaving a trail of small red dots on the floor.

"Where are you going?" Hayes called after her.

To pack, she didn't say. To call Talia, she didn't say.

She just kept walking.

Upstairs, in her room, she locked the door. She went to the bathroom and ran her hand under cold water. The sting was sharp, grounding.

She wrapped her hand in gauze. Then she picked up her phone.

She dialed Talia.

"Do it," Eliana said. "Tomorrow. I don't care how we do it. I want his signature on that paper."