Chapter 5

The echo of Glenwood's roar faded into the high ceilings. The silence in the living room was so thick it felt hard to breathe.

Glenwood pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked at his red-faced eldest son. Then he looked at his youngest son.

Finally, Glenwood's eyes bypassed them both. His gaze locked onto Cordelia, who was peering out from behind Byron's leg.

Glenwood's sharp eyes swept from Alton's barely concealed fury to Cordelia's feigned trembling. He saw not a family dispute, but a failure of his heir. A flicker of cold calculation crossed his face before he spoke.

"Cordelia," Glenwood said. His voice was calm now, but it carried the absolute weight of a dictator. "You said you wanted a new guardian."

Cordelia stepped out from behind Byron's shadow. She did not shrink under the old man's intense stare. She nodded her head once, a sharp, decisive movement.

Alton opened his mouth to scream an objection. Glenwood shot him a look so cold that the words died in Alton's throat.

Glenwood took a deep breath. "Fine. I agree. Consider it compensation for the years you spent in the dirt. I will grant you this privilege."

Antoinette covered her mouth. Her eyes gleamed with a frantic, desperate joy. She was finally free of the mistake.

Alton's face turned the color of wet cement. His stomach churned. This was not just losing custody. This was his father publicly stripping him of his dignity in front of the staff.

"But," Glenwood continued, his voice hardening. "Fitzpatrick blood does not live with outsiders. Your new guardian must be someone within this family."

The old man leaned on his cane. His eyes swept across the room. "Now. Tell your grandfather. Who do you choose?"

The air stopped moving. No one blinked. Every muscle in the room was tense, waiting for the filthy girl to make a decision that would alter the power dynamics of the house.

Alton crossed his arms over his chest. He let out a dark sneer. He did not believe for a second that anyone in this family would dare take the girl and risk his wrath.

Cordelia lowered her head. Her long eyelashes cast shadows over her cheeks, hiding the sharp, calculating gleam in her eyes.

She slowly raised her uninjured right hand. She extended her index finger.

Her finger moved through the air like the needle of a compass. It swept past Antoinette, who was holding her breath. It swept past Alton, whose sneer was frozen on his face.

The small finger stopped. It pointed directly at the broad, wrinkled back of the man standing right in front of her.

"I want him," Cordelia said. Her voice rang out, clear as a bell.

Every head in the room snapped toward the target of her finger. They stared at the man who smelled like a brewery.

Byron's jaw stopped moving. He choked on his own breath. He coughed violently, pounding his chest. He spun around and stared at Cordelia, then pointed a shaking finger at his own chest.

"Me? Are you kidding me?" Byron gasped, his blue eyes wide with absolute horror.

Alton stared for a second, and then he threw his head back and laughed. It was a harsh, barking sound.

"Him?" Alton mocked, pointing at Byron. "You choose a degenerate who can't even wake up before noon? A loser who lives in clubs?"

Antoinette frowned, stepping forward with fake concern. "Cordelia, do not be ridiculous. Your uncle doesn't even have a steady girlfriend. He cannot raise a child."

Even Glenwood looked taken aback. His thick eyebrows knitted together. He had assumed the girl would choose him, the patriarch, for ultimate protection.

"Cordelia," Glenwood warned, his tone heavy. "Are you certain? Byron is not equipped to be a father."

Cordelia ignored her parents. She ignored her grandfather. She tilted her head up and stared directly into Byron's panicked eyes.

"I am sure," Cordelia said. Her voice did not waver. "Because just now, he was the only one who stood in front of me."

The words hit Byron's chest like a physical blow. His heart gave a strange, violent thump against his ribs. The alcohol in his blood seemed to freeze.

Alton's laughter cut off instantly. His face contorted. The simple, brutal logic of his daughter's reason dragged his pride out into the open and slaughtered it.