Chapter 1 - UNDER THE TABLE
The sound of laughter reached Lucas Dawson before he reached the dining room.
Six women.
His mother's friends.
The kind of laughter that did not sound happy.
It sounded sharp.
Exclusive.
Cruel.
Lucas stopped outside the double doors of his mother's dining room.
He had been away in Boston for two days negotiating a restructuring deal. His flight landed early, and instead of going to the office, he came directly to the Dawson estate because Gwen had stopped answering his messages after noon.
His wife was eight months pregnant.
She always answered.
Even if only with:
Busy. Baby kicking. Love you.
Today there had been nothing.
Lucas pushed open the doors.
For half a second, his mind refused to understand what he was seeing.
His mother, Brenda Dawson, sat at the head of the long walnut table in a burgundy dress.
Six women surrounded her.
Crystal wineglasses.
Seafood platters.
Roasted chicken.
Silver serving dishes.
Candles.
White linen.
An elegant lunch arranged like something from a magazine.
And then Brenda picked up a stripped chicken bone.
She tossed it onto the floor.
Not accidentally.
Under the table.
The women laughed.
Brenda called:
“UNDER THE TABLE IS WHERE FREELOADERS EAT!”
Lucas stopped breathing.
One of the women noticed him.
Her smile vanished.
Then another.
Brenda turned.
“Oh.”
Lucas did not answer.
His eyes went to the floor.
The tablecloth almost reached the carpet.
Something moved beneath it.
He crossed the room.
“Lucas—”
He ripped the tablecloth upward.
And found his wife.
Gwen was kneeling beneath the table.
Eight months pregnant.
Bare feet tucked awkwardly under her.
Her maternity dress was stained with gravy.
Her dark hair hung across a face swollen from crying.
A plastic plate sat beside her knee.
On it were scraps.
Skin.
Bones.
Pieces of food that looked as though they had been scraped from other people's plates.
Lucas's entire body went cold.
“Gwen?”
She looked up.
Terror crossed her face.
Not relief.
Terror.
“Lucas…”
He dropped to his knees.
“What are you doing down here?”
Her lips trembled.
“I—”
He touched her cheek.
She flinched.
Lucas froze.
“Gwen.”
Her eyes filled.
“Please don't be angry.”
Something inside him broke.
“Angry at you?”
Gwen looked toward Brenda.
That one glance told Lucas more than words could.
He stood slowly.
Brenda lifted her wine.
“Don't start.”
Lucas turned.
“What did you do?”
“Oh, please.”
His voice dropped.
“Why is my pregnant wife under your table?”
Brenda rolled her eyes.
“Because your wife needed a lesson.”
One guest stared at her plate.
Another suddenly seemed fascinated by her napkin.
But two were still smiling.
Brenda pointed toward Gwen with her wineglass.
“She comes into this family with nothing, lives in a house paid for by Dawsons, wears jewelry paid for by Dawsons, carries a Dawson child, and somehow thinks that makes her important.”
Lucas stared at his mother.
“She is my wife.”
“She is useful for one thing.”
Brenda's expression hardened.
“Carrying your baby.”
Two women laughed.
Quietly this time.
Lucas looked at them.
They stopped.
He reached under the table.
“Gwen. Come here.”
She shook her head.
“It's okay.”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“I shouldn't.”
Lucas's chest tightened.
“Who told you that?”
Nothing.
He extended his hand.
“Gwen.”
Slowly, she took it.
He helped her stand.
Her legs nearly folded.
Lucas caught her.
She was lighter than she should have been.
He had noticed that recently.
He had asked.
She told him pregnancy made her appetite strange.
He had believed her.
God.
He removed his charcoal jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Brenda laughed.
“Now you're rewarding her.”
Lucas looked at his mother.
“Rewarding her?”
“She has been manipulating you for months.”
Lucas's voice became dangerously quiet.
“Stop talking.”
Brenda stood.
“Excuse me?”
“Stop.”
“I am your mother.”
Lucas stared at the woman who had raised him.
The woman he had defended for thirty-eight years.
The woman he had described to Gwen as difficult but loyal.
Demanding but generous.
Controlling because she cared.
He looked at the bones under the table.
Then back at Brenda.
“You humiliated my wife.”
“She embarrassed herself.”
“You fed her scraps.”
“She chose to stay down there.”
Gwen made a tiny sound.
Lucas turned.
“What?”
She shook her head quickly.
“Nothing.”
Brenda smiled.
“See? Ask her.”
Lucas looked at Gwen.
“Did you choose this?”
Her eyes immediately went to Brenda.
That was enough.
Lucas reached for the tablecloth.
Brenda frowned.
“What are you doing?”
He grabbed it with both hands.
Then pulled.
Hard.
The entire arrangement collapsed.
Crystal shattered.
Wine spilled.
Platters slid from the table.
Shrimp and roasted vegetables crashed across the floor.
Candles toppled harmlessly into the wet linen.
The women screamed and jumped backward.
Brenda stared at him.
Lucas roared:
“DON'T EVER TOUCH MY WIFE AGAIN!”
The room went silent.
Brenda's face turned crimson.
“I'M YOUR MOTHER!”
Lucas moved in front of Gwen.
“And she carried this family while you destroyed her!”
Brenda stared at him.
Something flickered behind her anger.
Not guilt.
Calculation.
Lucas had seen that expression across negotiation tables.
He had simply never wanted to recognize it in his own mother.
He took out his phone.
“Security.”
Brenda's confidence faltered.
“What are you doing?”
Lucas pressed call.
“Remove everyone from the property.”
One of the guests gasped.
“Lucas, surely—”
“Everyone.”
Brenda stepped toward him.
“You cannot remove me from my own house.”
Lucas looked at her.
The estate belonged to the Dawson Family Trust.
He was managing trustee.
She knew that.
“Watch me.”
Security answered.
Lucas gave the instruction.
Brenda stared.
For the first time that afternoon, she looked afraid.
Then Gwen grabbed Lucas's arm.
Hard.
He turned instantly.
“Gwen?”
Her face had gone white.
Both hands moved to her belly.
“Lucas…”
“What?”
She bent forward.
Pain twisted across her face.
“Oh God.”
Lucas caught her.
“Gwen?”
She gasped.
“My stomach.”
Every trace of rage disappeared.
“Call 911!”
One of the women reached for a phone.
Lucas lifted Gwen into his arms.
“No. Stay with me.”
Her fingers dug into his shirt.
“Lucas…”
“I'm here.”
Her breathing became shallow.
Brenda stepped forward.
“She's being dramatic.”
Lucas looked at her with such fury that she stopped.
“Do not come near her.”
Gwen cried out again.
Lucas held her tighter.
“Ambulance is coming.”
She shook her head.
“Baby…”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her eyes locked onto his.
There was something in them now beyond pain.
Fear.
A specific fear.
“Gwen?”
Her lips barely moved.
“Don't let them give me…”
She stopped.
Another wave of pain hit her.
Lucas leaned closer.
“What?”
Gwen squeezed his wrist.
Then whispered two words.
May you like
“The blue pills.”
And fainted in his arms.
