"Go wash your hands, Jones," Gloria said.
As Jones went into the bathroom, Gloria cornered Gustavo in the hallway.
She knelt down for a secret strategy meeting.
"Gustavo, look at me," she said.
He looked at her, eyes wide.
"Do you like toys?" she asked.
"Yes!" he nodded vigorously.
"Do you know who buys the best toys?"
"Daddy?" he guessed.
"Daddy is old," Gloria dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Daddy buys stocks and bonds. Boring stuff."
She pointed toward the bathroom door where Jones was.
"Jones is the future," she whispered. "He is going to be a Tech Mogul."
She used the big words deliberately.
"Like Iron Man?" Gustavo asked.
"Exactly. He will have more money than Iron Man."
Gustavo's jaw dropped.
"If you are nice to him," Gloria continued, weaving her web, "he will buy you islands."
"Islands?"
"Yes. Private islands. Made of candy. And Lego."
"Whoa," Gustavo breathed.
"But only if you stop kicking him," Gloria warned. "Iron Man doesn't buy islands for kids who kick him."
Gustavo nodded solemnly. He was now motivated by the purest force in the Sterling family: greed.
Gloria smiled. It was a dark, twisted lesson, but it was a language they understood.
"Let's go."
They went downstairs. Jones was already at the table, looking sullen.
Gustavo climbed into his chair.
He looked at Jones. He didn't see his brother anymore. He saw a walking ATM. He saw Iron Man.
Gustavo grabbed his bread basket. He pushed it across the table toward Jones.
"For you, Iron Man," Gustavo whispered reverently.
Jones was taking a sip of water. He choked.
He coughed, sputtering water onto his plate. "What?"
"Eat the bread," Gustavo insisted. "It's for the islands."
Jones looked at Gloria, bewildered. "What did you tell him?"
Gloria hid her smile behind a linen napkin. "I just explained the family hierarchy."
She looked down at her empty plate. Her mind drifted to her finances.
She needed five million dollars. Fast.
She looked at her outfit. Vintage Versace. Fashion.
In the real world, she was a fashion editor. Here, Gloria had a closet full of couture but zero taste.
She could start a brand. A real brand. Not the vanity projects the old Gloria did.
But she needed capital.
She looked at the antique silverware. Solid silver, she thought. No. Arthur would notice.
The front door opened.
A heavy gust of wind blew through the hall.
Arthur was back. Unannounced.
Gloria froze. Dinner just got complicated.
