Chapter 7 - The Confrontation In The Grand Room
“Abraham,” Victor announced loudly, attracting the attention of several nearby city council members. “I didn’t think you were invited tonight.”
“I came to check on my son, Victor,” I said, my voice quiet, flat, and perfectly calm as I stood my ground in the center of the rug.
“Wyatt isn’t feeling well,” Sabrina interrupted, stepping beside her father with her arms crossed, her eyes flashing with cold arrogance.
“He drank too much early in the evening and went to bed hours ago. You shouldn’t bother him, Abraham. He was very clear that he didn’t want you here.”
I looked at Sabrina, then at her father, taking in the full measure of their sociopathic confidence in front of fifty prominent witnesses.
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“He didn’t go to bed, Sabrina,” I said, stepping closer so my boots left damp snow marks on her pristine white carpet.
“He was chained to a concrete pillar in your basement with a shattered knee, bleeding from needle wounds your father’s men inflicted on him.”
