Chapter 4 - The House of Glass
By dawn, the house was silent, save for the mechanical hum of the auditors working in the study. Brooke and Mom were sequestered in the living room, their phones confiscated, their high-priced lawyers having already told them there was no defense for the documented evidence Arthur had produced.
Arthur sat with me and Caleb on the porch, watching the river. The morning light hit the water, creating the same vibrant blues and greens Caleb had tried to capture in his painting.
"I’m sorry, Caleb," Arthur said, his voice cracking for the first time in his life. "I should have stopped them sooner. I thought I was teaching them a lesson in legacy, but I was really just allowing them to grow into monsters. I was protecting the fortune when I should have been protecting you."
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"It’s okay," Caleb whispered, his voice small but steady. "I have more paper. I have more paint."
His resilience was a sharp, painful contrast to the adults who were currently being hauled out to police cars parked on the gravel drive. Brooke looked at us as she was led away, her makeup streaked, her designer clothes rumpled, her eyes finally empty of the predatory hunger that had defined her for so long. She had wanted to destroy a child’s work to feel powerful; now, she was witnessing the total destruction of everything she had ever valued. The house of glass they had built was shattered, and there was no one left to sweep up the shards.
