My mother held my hand the whole time.
Her grip never loosened.
They brought us into a private room upstairs.
It was blue, just like the guard had said.
Blue walls.
Blue curtains.
A polished table long enough for men to lie to each other comfortably.
There was a fireplace, though it was not lit.
Above it hung a portrait of a stern old man with silver hair and eyes like winter.
I looked from the portrait to the chair at the head of the table.
The same old man sat there.
Not in the painting.
In the room.
He held a cane across his lap.
His suit was dark.
His face looked carved, not aged.
When he saw my mother, his mouth tightened.
When he saw me, something in him paused.
Victor said, “Father, Garrett ordered a hit under my name.”
The old man did not speak.
Victor placed the receipt on the table.
Then he placed the guard’s phone beside it.
Then the papers began arriving.
Men came in with folders, drives, keys, printed contracts, bank slips.
Not all at once.
One by one, like pieces of a body being carried back to the room.
My mother sat beside me with Victor’s coat still over her shoulders.
Her bruised face looked small under the chandelier, but her eyes stayed steady.
Garrett arrived eleven minutes later.
I know because I watched the old clock on the mantel the entire time.
The door opened, and a man in a gray suit walked in smiling.
He was handsome in the way knives are shiny.
His hair was perfect.
His cufflinks flashed.
He looked at Victor first, then the old man, then the table.
Then he saw my mother.
Then me.
The smile almost survived.
Almost.
“What is this?” Garrett asked.
Victor did not stand.
“Sit.”
Garrett glanced around the room, measuring exits, loyalties, faces.
He gave my mother a disgusted look.
“We’re holding meetings with staff now?”
My mother’s fingers curled around mine.
The old man tapped his cane once on the floor.
Garrett sat.
Victor pushed the receipt across the table.
“Explain it.”
Garrett looked at the back and gave a small scoff.
“A grocery receipt with a fairy tale on it.
That’s your evidence? From her?”
“The call was recorded,” Victor said.
Garrett’s jaw moved.
