Victoria woke to find her father in the living room, already drinking despite the early hour. A tumbler of whiskey sat in his shaking hand, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.
"Have you seen your mother?" Richard asked without looking at her.
"Not since yesterday. Why?"
Richard took a long drink. "She's with that bastard Brandon. I know it."
Victoria settled onto the couch, trying to assess how volatile he was this morning. "Probably. But don't worry—she'll be back. Where else would she go?"
Richard hurled his glass at the wall with sudden violence, making Victoria flinch despite herself. Crystal shattered, whiskey dripping down the expensive wallpaper.
"I'll get her myself," Richard snarled, standing with the unsteady determination of someone whose anger overrode basic judgment. He grabbed his car keys and headed for the door.
Victoria watched him leave, feeling the first stirrings of genuine worry. Her father wasn't thinking clearly, and confronting Brandon directly could end very badly for him.
---
Margaret spent the morning exploring the mansion, still unable to fully process the sheer scale of where she was now living. The staff she encountered—a housekeeper, a groundskeeper, a chef—all greeted her warmly, as if her presence was perfectly natural.
The house was more beautiful than she'd imagined. Every room seemed designed with both aesthetics and function in mind, blending modern technology with classic elegance.
She discovered an Olympic-sized pool surrounded by lounge chairs and tropical plants maintained in climate-controlled perfection despite Seattle's weather. The garage housed what must have been thirty cars, ranging from classic vintage models to cutting-edge electric vehicles.
A cinema room contained actual theater seating for twenty people, with a screen that took up the entire wall. Outside, beyond the main grounds, she spotted what appeared to be an actual working farm with greenhouses and livestock.
The garden took her breath away—roses, orchids, and flowering plants she couldn't even name, all arranged with artistic precision. Several smaller houses dotted the estate, probably guest cottages or staff quarters.
Finally, she found the library. It was exactly as Brandon had described—a vast room with floor-to-ceiling shelves, vintage wooden ladders for reaching high volumes, and comfortable reading chairs positioned near large windows that flooded the space with natural light.
Margaret selected a first edition of Pride and Prejudice and settled into one of the chairs.
"Good morning, Margaret," said a pleasant female voice from nowhere and everywhere at once.
Margaret nearly dropped the book. "Who's there?"
"I'm ARIA, the house's artificial intelligence system. Mr. Carter asked me to assist you during your stay. Please let me know if you need anything—temperature adjustments, meal preparation, entertainment options, or simply information about the house."
Margaret looked around, trying to locate the source of the voice. "You're... an AI? Like in science fiction movies?"
"Something like that, though I'd argue the reality is more impressive than most fiction portrays. I manage all household systems and can communicate through speakers in every room. I'm here to make your stay comfortable."
"Thank you, ARIA. I'll let you know if I need anything."
"Enjoy your reading, Margaret."
Margaret smiled despite her lingering confusion. Even the house's AI was more considerate than her own family had been.
She'd been reading for about an hour when ARIA's voice interrupted again, this time with urgency. "Margaret, I apologize for disturbing you, but there's someone at the front gate calling your name. Would you like to see who it is?"
Margaret felt her stomach drop. "Yes, please."
A screen materialized from what had appeared to be a simple wall panel, showing the front gate's security camera feed. Richard was there, clearly drunk, pounding on the gate and screaming her name.
"Margaret! Get out here right now! I know you're in there with him!"
Two security personnel in black tactical gear had already moved to intercept him. As Margaret watched in horror, they physically restrained Richard, pinning him against the gate when he tried to force his way through.
"You can't do this!" Richard screamed. "That's my wife! Margaret, get out here after I explicitly told you not to see him!"
Margaret found herself moving toward the front door without thinking, ARIA's voice following her. "Margaret, I would advise remaining inside until the situation is resolved."
But she couldn't just watch from cameras. She walked outside, staying well behind the security line but close enough to be visible.
Richard's eyes locked onto her immediately. "There you are! If you come home right now, I might forgive you. We can forget this whole thing happened."
One of the security guards spoke quietly to Margaret. "Ma'am, please go back inside. The police are on their way to handle this situation."
"Margaret, don't listen to them!" Richard struggled against the guards' grip. "This is kidnapping! He's kidnapping you! I'll have him arrested!"
Margaret stood frozen, torn between fear and pity for the man she'd spent twenty-four years with. He looked pathetic—drunk, disheveled, ranting at gates that wouldn't open for him.
"Ma'am," the guard repeated gently but firmly. "Please."
Margaret nodded and turned back toward the house, Richard's screaming following her.
"You can't hide from me forever! Margaret! MARGARET!"
Once inside, with the door closed behind her, Margaret collapsed against the wall and began crying. The security guards' firm but professional handling of Richard, the gates that wouldn't open, the realization that she'd actually left—it all crashed over her at once.
"Margaret," ARIA's voice was softer now, almost concerned. "Would you like me to contact Mr. Carter?"
"No," Margaret managed through tears. "He's traveling for business. I don't want to worry him."
"He left instructions that he should be informed of any security incidents involving Richard. I'm afraid I must follow those instructions."
---
In Texas, Brandon was touring the massive manufacturing facility that produced all of Carter Innovations' custom hardware. The factory floor stretched for what seemed like miles, with automated assembly lines producing phones, computers, servers, and specialized components at a scale that still impressed him even after years of growth.
Isaac Thornton, the facility's director, was walking him through the latest efficiency improvements. "We've increased production capacity by eighteen percent through the new automation protocols. Quality control metrics are actually better than when we had more manual oversight."
Brandon nodded, examining a prototype phone that wouldn't hit the market for another six months. The technology was years ahead of anything competitors were producing.
His phone rang—Jared's name on the screen.
"Excuse me, Isaac. I need to take this."
"Jared, what's wrong?"
"We had an incident at your residence. Richard showed up drunk, demanding to see Margaret. My team handled it—he never got past the gate—but I thought you should know."
Brandon felt his jaw tighten. "Is Margaret okay?"
"Physically, yes. Emotionally, she's pretty shaken up. The police took Richard into custody about ten minutes ago. He'll probably be charged with trespassing, public intoxication, maybe making threats."
"And your team? No issues?"
"They handled it perfectly. Professional restraint, minimal force, complete documentation. If Richard tries to claim anything inappropriate happened, we've got video from six different angles."
Brandon closed his eyes, processing. "Thank you, Jared. Keep the detail on-site until I get back."
"Already planned on it. How soon can you return?"
Brandon glanced at Isaac, who was politely pretending not to listen. "I'll be on a flight within the hour."
After hanging up, Brandon turned to Isaac. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I have an emergency back in Seattle. Can you send me the full report on the efficiency improvements?"
"Of course. I hope everything's alright."
Brandon was already walking toward the exit. "It will be once I get home."
As he climbed into the car that would take him to the private airfield, Brandon felt the familiar mix of anger and protectiveness that Richard always seemed to trigger.
The man had spent years making Brandon's life miserable, had exploited his work, had tried to destroy his career. And now he was terrorizing someone Brandon cared about, someone who'd finally found the courage to escape.
Richard was about to learn that threatening people under Brandon's protection came with consequences he couldn't afford.