But the boy tore free and knocked over a glass. Ice and shards scattered across the marble. This was not simple misbehavior. Since his mother’s death, Mason had lived in a mansion filled with staff but empty of warmth. Therapists came and went. Nannies lasted weeks. Victor, drowning in his own grief, buried himself in work, leaving his son surrounded by luxury yet starved of affection.
Whispers rippled through the room.
“With all his fortune, he can’t even manage his own child,” a woman muttered, adjusting her diamond bracelet.
“Money doesn’t buy manners,” her companion replied coolly.
Victor felt their judgment like heat on his skin. Important investors sat nearby. Journalists, too. By morning, headlines would not celebrate his latest merger—they would recount this humiliation. The restaurant manager hovered nervously, unwilling to confront the man who practically owned half the city.