Chapter 239
Chapter 239:
The words hit Eliza hot and sharp. She wanted to shrink, to apologize, to run. But Dallas’s hand tightened on hers — an anchor. Stand straight, she told herself. Don’t let them see you bleed.
“She brings grace,” Dallas countered, his voice dropping an octave. “Something this house has lacked for decades p>
“Divorce her,” Ferd commanded, waving a hand. “Annul it. Give her a check and send her away. We can manage the press. We can say it was a lapse in judgment p>
“Or what?” Dallas challenged. He stepped forward, placing himself subtly between his father and Eliza.
“Or I rally the board,” Ferd threatened, his face darkening. “I still have friends, Dallas. Old money friends. We can make your tenure… very difficult p>
Dallas laughed — a dry, mocking sound with no warmth in it.
J𝘰𝗂𝗇 о𝗎𝗋 𝗰𝗈mm𝘶ո𝗂𝘵y oո.с𝗈𝘮
“Your friends are retired golfers, Father,” he said. “The board answers to profit. And I am profit. Since I took over, the stock has tripled. They don’t care who I marry. They care that I make them rich p>
Ferd’s face turned a violent shade of red. The veins in his neck bulged. He set his crystal glass down on the marble mantelpiece with a sharp, deliberate crack that rang through the silence. A fine web of fractures spread from the point of impact. He didn’t flinch — just left the ruined glass where it sat, a testament to his cold fury.
Eliza didn’t flinch either. She had spent years with Anson Hyde; she knew the sound of a man losing the edge of his control. She held Ferd’s gaze, her expression perfectly blank.
Dallas went rigid. The air in the room seemed to drop ten degrees, his eyes turning pitch black.
“You mistake my patience for weakness,” he said, barely above a whisper.
He stepped forward, shielding Eliza completely with his body. He loomed over his father — the height difference negligible, the power difference immense. “Touch anything near my wife again,” he said, his voice soft and terrifyingly calm, “and I will cut your allowance. To zero p>
The room went dead silent. Even the ticking of the grandfather clock seemed to stop.
Financial castration. The ultimate threat in their world.
Ferd gasped, gripping the edge of the mantelpiece. “You wouldn’t p>
“Try me,” Dallas said. “I control the trust. I control the dividends. I control the very roof over your head. You want to play patriarch? Pay your own bills p>
Ferd stared at his son, mouth opening and closing. He looked to Jeannine for support. She was staring into her teacup.
“Enough.” Jeannine rose. Her voice was crisp, cutting cleanly through the standoff. “Ferd, sit down. You’re making a scene p>
Ferd looked at his wife. Then at his son. He understood, in that moment, that he had lost — defeated by his own wallet.
He stormed out, slamming the heavy oak door behind him hard enough to rattle the windows.
Jeannine smoothed her skirt. She didn’t look at the door. She glanced briefly at the shattered glass on the mantelpiece. “He was always the hammer,” she said, her voice entirely without feeling. Then she turned her cool, appraising gaze to Eliza. “Now the real conversation begins p>