Sins of the Matriarch
Chapter 1: The Glass Room
The silence inside the dining room of the Vance estate wasn't peaceful; it was suffocating. Heavy mahogany paneling lined the walls, absorbing the warm glow of the wall sconces and casting long, predatory shadows across the Persian rug.
Liam threw open the heavy double doors, his leather briefcase hitting the hardwood floor with a dull, resonant thud. His navy blue suit jacket was unbuttoned, his tie loosened, but his posture was rigid with suspicion. He had driven eighty miles per hour from his office downtown after receiving a cryptically terrified text message from his eight-year-old son, Leo.
As Liam crossed the threshold, his eyes instantly locked onto the far end of the dining table.
His four-year-old daughter, Lily, was crouched beside her brother’s chair, her small frame quivering as she hid her face in Leo's lap. Leo sat stiffly, his hands clenching the edge of his chair, his young face pale and streaked with dried tears.
And seated calmly at the head of the table was Eleanor—Liam’s stepmother.
Eleanor sat with her arms crossed over her black silk blouse, her dark hair pulled back into an immaculate, flawless bun. She didn't look up when Liam burst into the room. She simply sat there, staring down at her gold dessert fork, perfectly composed, like a predator resting after a strike.
"What is going on here?" Liam’s voice cracked through the silence, deep and laced with warning.
He strode toward the table, bending down to scoop Lily into his arms. The little girl clung to his neck, burying her face into his shoulder, her breathing erratic and terrified.
Liam stood tall, glaring down at Eleanor. "You put your hands on my child?"
Eleanor didn't flinch. Slowly, she leaned back in her high-backed chair, her sharp, dark eyes meeting Liam’s gaze with a chilling indifference. "Your children lack discipline, Liam. In this house, we sit properly at the dinner table. Someone needs to teach them how a Vance behaves, since you are clearly too busy playing CEO to raise them."
Liam raised his hand, slamming his palm onto the mahogany table with a thunderous crack that rattled the crystal glassware. "Don't you ever lay a finger on them again! Do you hear me?!"
Leo suddenly sat up, his wide, frightened eyes fixed on his father. He reached out, grabbing the sleeve of Liam's navy jacket.