Arthur walked into the dining room. He was loosening his tie, the movement slightly stiff, his face a mask of exhaustion.
The atmosphere in the room stiffened instantly. The staff stood straighter.
"Room for one more?" Arthur asked.
It was a rhetorical question. It was his house.
"Of course, sir," the butler rushed to set a place at the head of the table.
Gloria signaled Gustavo with her eyes: Behave.
Arthur sat down. He unfolded his napkin with precise, geometric movements.
"How was the... shopping?" he asked, looking at Gloria.
"Productive," she replied shortly. She cut into her steak, avoiding his gaze.
Gustavo decided this was the moment to impress the "Future Iron Man" Jones. He wanted to show he was part of the conversation.
"Jones!" Gustavo shouted. "Mommy says you will buy me islands!"
Jones turned red. He sank lower in his chair.
Arthur paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. "Islands?"
Gloria kicked Gustavo under the table gently. Shut up.
Gustavo thought it was a game. He giggled.
"Yes! Because Jones is rich! Like Daddy!" Gustavo announced.
He took a breath. "But Daddy is old."
Arthur's eye twitched. The fork lowered slowly to the plate. Clink.
"Old?" Arthur repeated. His voice was dangerously quiet.
Jones actually smirked. He took a bite of bread to hide it.
Gustavo, feeling the attention of the entire room, decided to escalate. He glanced quickly at Gloria, saw that her attention was fixed on his father, and seized the opportunity. He stood up on his chair.
"Mommy pinched me for time-out!" he complained suddenly, changing topics with the erratic logic of a toddler.
"She pinched my butt!"
Silence descended. It was absolute.
Arthur looked at Gloria. His expression was unreadable, but there was a glint in his eye.
Gustavo pointed a chubby finger at Arthur.
"Does Daddy get his butt pinched by Mommy too?"
The staff froze. The butler stared at the ceiling. Jones choked on his steak, coughing violently into his napkin. He hated himself for it, hated that some part of him found her ridiculous situation funny. He was supposed to loathe her, not be entertained by her.
Gloria's face burned hot. She felt the blush rising from her neck to her hairline.
Arthur slowly turned to Gloria. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
A slow, predatory amusement curled the corner of his mouth. Gloria had a sudden, chilling thought: He knows. He saw the security footage. He knows I never touched the boy. This wasn't a question. It was a test.
"I'm waiting for the answer, Gloria," Arthur said. His voice dropped an octave, vibrating through the table.
"Does he?"
