Chapter 239
[ 497 words ]
Chapter 239:
Cornelia, desperate to break the lethal tension Jarrod was radiating, began speaking in a high, artificial voice. She directed her conversation at the General, listing off the names of senators and diplomats attending an upcoming charity gala, trying to re-establish the illusion of high-society normalcy.
Caroline sat perfectly still. She had absolutely zero interest in Cornelia’s political name-dropping.
Her gray eyes calmly scanned the room, assessing the battlefield.
She noticed Carson Finch standing in the deep shadows near the corner of the room, exactly two paces behind the General’s chair. The butler stood perfectly rigid, his hands clasped behind his back, acting as a silent, invisible piece of furniture.
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Caroline remembered the previous night. She remembered Finch carrying her out of the freezing car, bypassing the rules to put her in the safest room in the house.
A tactical plan formed in her mind. She needed to test the General’s boundaries and simultaneously shatter Cornelia’s arrogant posturing.
Caroline placed her silver spoon down on the table. The sharp clack cut through Cornelia’s monologue instantly.
Caroline turned her head and looked directly at the butler.
“Mr. Finch,” Caroline said. Her voice was clear, calm, and carried across the massive room. “You have been standing all morning. Aren’t you hungry?”
The entire dining room froze.
Cornelia’s mouth snapped shut. Harper stared at Caroline as if she had just grown a second head.
In the hundred-year history of the Romero estate, no master of the house had ever addressed a servant’s physical needs during a formal breakfast. It was a catastrophic breach of class protocol.
Finch’s stoic face cracked. A micro-expression of pure shock widened his eyes. He quickly bowed his head.
“It is my duty to stand, Madam,” Finch replied mechanically.
Caroline did not back down. She turned her head and looked directly at General Romero sitting at the head of the table. Her gaze was steady and completely fearless.
“General,” Caroline said, her tone conversational but laced with steel, “Mr. Finch spent the entire night managing security protocols to ensure your safety. I was under the impression that the Romero family rewarded loyalty, rather than punishing it with exhaustion.”
It was a brilliant psychological strike. She framed the invitation not as a breach of etiquette, but as a demonstration of the family’s honor and strength.
The General’s cloudy blue eyes narrowed. He stared at Caroline.
He saw exactly what she was doing. She was using American egalitarianism as a weapon to humiliate Cornelia and Harper, proving she didn’t care about their snobby rules.
To everyone’s absolute horror, the General let out a low, rumbling chuckle.
He raised his right hand and waved it toward the shadows.
“Carson,” the General commanded, his voice echoing in the quiet room, “since the Madam has requested it, pull up a chair and sit down.”
The word “Madam” dropped into the room like a live grenade.
The General had just officially, publicly recognized Caroline’s status as the wife of the heir.
Cornelia’s manicured fingernails dug so hard into her palms they almost drew blood. Harper’s face turned a sickly shade of gray.
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