"T... Tom..."
Cassandra had braced herself for tension, maybe even a physical altercation. She had mentally prepared for the possibility of chiseling her father out of the wall.
What she had not prepared for was Tom laying on the pressure before a single real word had been exchanged, leaving her father looking like a startled rabbit with all its fur standing on end.
Cassandra had never in her life seen Andrew Voray deny anything with that degree of desperation.
"Don't say a word." Tom turned toward her, sharp-edged and cold, but in the same instant his expression flickered, he gave her a quick, private wink, and then he turned back, face settling once more into perfect blankness, his dark eyes radiating a chill that belonged to someone twice his age.
"So what Mr. Voray is saying... is that your daughter lied to me?"
"No... no, that's not..." Andrew forced the words out through sheer willpower. "This has nothing to do with Cassandra. She only told me what happened at Hogwarts. You pinned my daughter to a wall, Riddle. As her father, am I not allowed to be furious? Am I not allowed to demand an explanation?"
Tom noted this, quietly.
He had woven a low-level mental pressure charm into his approach as he crossed the room, the kind Cassandra wouldn't feel at her distance, but that Andrew had been soaking in since Tom drew near. Under that kind of influence, the man had still chosen to take everything onto himself.
Domineering personality. Raised Cassandra with all the warmth of a sculptor perfecting a masterpiece. But the love for his daughter, apparently, was genuine.
A colder man would have thrown her to the wolves without hesitation.
Tom allowed himself a private flicker of something resembling disappointment. If Andrew had deflected just now, Tom would have had every justification he needed to deal with the old man cleanly. Now it was considerably harder to justify.
Cassandra had felt it too, the shield Andrew had thrown up without thinking. Something behind her eyes went unexpectedly warm.
She had always believed her father saw her as a project, something to be refined and perfected at every edge. It turned out, apparently, that wasn't entirely true.
Before either of them could dwell on it further, Tom's gaze drifted downward with casual deliberateness.
"Mr. Voray, I think this seat suits me rather better. Would you agree?"
One minute later, the main armchair had a new occupant. Tom reclined in it with the unhurried ease of someone who had always sat there, sipping his red tea.
Striking first was a deeply useful technique, especially against men like Andrew Voray, men who held themselves in very high regard. Tom had no intention of showing restraint simply because this happened to be Cassandra's father. It didn't matter whether they had any relationship at all; even if they had children together, Tom would not allow himself to be made uncomfortable in someone else's sitting room. So he had walked in today and delivered the warning shot before Andrew could fire his own, because that was the only way the rest of the conversation would go anywhere useful. If the mental pressure hadn't worked, he had physical measures ready as backup. Either way, Andrew needed to be thoroughly subdued before any real business could be discussed.
The atmosphere was a touch awkward now, but at least nothing had been broken. That counted as preserving the man's dignity.
Tom set down his cup and went straight to the point.
"Mr. Voray, I won't be handing you the exclusive rights."
"Why not?" Andrew's head came up sharply. "We haven't even discussed terms yet, Mr. Riddle. Isn't that rather premature?"
It wasn't impatience that drove him. It was the sheer scale of what was at stake.
The Voray family's commercial reach spanned the entire continent. They understood the market better than most. What Cassandra had built up with her small operation hadn't scratched a tenth of North America, let alone the far more populous wizarding communities of South America. Exclusive rights to Tom's products meant stable, generational income for the Voray family for the next hundred years.
Tom shook his head. "No matter what terms you offer, I won't change my mind. Going forward in North America, my products will be handled by Cassandra. Only Cassandra."
Andrew blinked. "Isn't that the same thing?"
"It is not." Tom's tone was clear. "She represents herself. You represent the Voray family. Those are not the same."
"But Cassandra is my only daughter. The family will be hers someday."
Tom pressed his lips together to suppress a smile. Old man, by the time that day comes, I'll have walked off with her and the money both.
"That's a matter for the future. Right now, I'm not changing my mind."
Cassandra was visibly moved. Andrew, on the other hand, pressed his brows together.
"Mr. Riddle, Cassandra is still a student. She has academic obligations, and there are significant practical limitations on what she can manage from inside a school. You can't possibly expect clients to travel to Hogwarts every time they need to meet with her."
"Isn't that exactly what you, as her father, should be helping with?"
A fox's smile settled across Tom's face. Andrew felt the first clear premonition that something had gone wrong.
"All I've done is place the full authority in Cassandra's hands. How she organizes things, whether she brings in sub-distributors, what arrangements she makes, those are entirely her decisions. I won't interfere. All I need is for her not to lose me money. Which she won't. Isn't that right?"
"Don't worry, Tom."
Cassandra, basking in his trust and having completely forgotten the moment not five minutes ago when her father had stepped forward to shield her, thumped her chest with conviction.
"I will absolutely not let you earn less than before."
Andrew's left eye twitched.
The tendons in his hand tightened.
I am your FATHER.
How are you standing there taking this boy's side!
Tom spread his hands with an air of complete satisfaction.
"You see. Everything resolved perfectly."
Perfectly.
Andrew sat with a chest full of feelings he had nowhere to put. Though at least, he reasoned, it wasn't a total loss. In his mind, money Cassandra earned was still Voray family money, the only difference being that a portion of the profits had to be shared outward due to the unfortunate directional nature of his daughter's loyalties.
That particular consolation would come back to haunt him.
Decades later, when Andrew Voray thought back on this afternoon, he would beat his chest with both fists.
He had seen Tom coming from the start. Had understood perfectly well that the boy intended to take advantage of the Voray family.
What he had not foreseen, what he could never have possibly prepared himself for, was that Tom wouldn't just eat the food off the table.
He was going to walk off with the entire kitchen.