He Chose The Nanny, I Chose Revenge

Clara gripped the brass handle of the front door. The cold draft from the elevator corridor hit her face. Chadwick lunged forward. His hand slammed against the doorframe, stopping her from pulling it open any further. "Don't do this," Chadwick hissed. He kept his voice low so the staff wouldn't hear. "Do not throw a tantrum like a child." Clara tilted her head. She looked him dead in the eye. "I'm not the one demanding my exhausted wife cook a three-hour meal for a nanny's child," she whispered back. Before Chadwick could respond, the swinging door to the kitchen pushed open. Maura, the loyal elderly housekeeper who had been with Clara's family for decades, fiercely protective of Clara and Leo, stepped out carrying a silver tray. Maura took one look at the tension at the front door and cleared her throat loudly. "Dinner is served in the formal dining room, ma'am," Maura announced. Her eyes darted sharply toward Dorcas. Clara exhaled slowly. She let go of the brass handle. She wasn't going to make a scene in front of Maura. "Come on, Leo," Clara said. She turned and walked toward the dining room. The long mahogany table was set for five. The crystal glasses caught the light from the chandelier, and the silverware gleamed in perfect, intimidating rows. Five chairs were placed at even intervals, though the head of the table and the seat to its immediate right had always been understood as Chadwick’s and Clara’s. Clara walked toward the head of the table. She stopped dead in her tracks. Dorcas was already sitting in the chair to the immediate right of the head seat. Clara's seat. Dorcas looked up. Her eyes widened in exaggerated panic. She jumped up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the hardwood floor. "Oh! I'm so sorry, Mrs. Brewer. I wasn't thinking," Dorcas stammered, her hands fluttering to her collarbone. Chadwick walked into the room. He placed a heavy hand on Dorcas's shoulder and pushed her gently back into the chair. "Sit down, Dorcas," Chadwick said. He looked at Clara. "It's just dinner. We don't need to enforce archaic seating rules." Clara didn't argue. She felt a strange numbness spreading through her chest. She walked to the absolute furthest end of the long table and pulled out a chair for Leo, then sat beside him. Maura brought out the main course. Beef Wellington. Chadwick picked up his silver knife and fork. He sliced the thick, perfectly cooked meat on his plate into tiny, bite-sized pieces. He didn't pass the plate to Leo. He reached across the table and set the plate down in front of Autumn. "Here you go, sweetie. Eat up," Chadwick said softly. Leo stared down at his own plate. The large slice of meat sat there, oozing a little bit of red juice. His small hands gripped his fork. They were shaking. Leo slammed his fork down against the porcelain plate. The sharp clatter echoed in the quiet room. "Why do you only cut her meat?" Leo yelled. His voice broke. "I need help too!" Dorcas gasped and shrank back in her chair. Chadwick slammed his hands flat onto the mahogany table. "Do not raise your voice in this house!" Chadwick roared. "You are acting like a spoiled brat. Autumn doesn't have a father. You need to learn to share." Tears spilled down Leo's cheeks. "I don't have a father either!" Leo screamed back. Chadwick's face turned purple. He raised his right hand, pulling it back as if he were going to strike the table again. Clara moved faster than she ever had in her life. Her chair screeched against the floor. She stood up and stepped in front of Leo, blocking him completely from Chadwick's line of sight. Her eyes were black with rage. She picked up Leo's plate. "We are eating in his room," Clara said. Her voice was a low, dangerous hum. She shot one look at Dorcas. The nanny quickly dropped her gaze, staring at her lap. Clara grabbed Leo's hand and walked out of the dining room. She didn't look back at the three of them sitting together. She didn't need to. The image was permanently burned into her brain. In her own home, she and her son were the outsiders.