part 4

 Everyone was focused on their food, some taking the moment to share romantic gestures with their partners. Across the room, the burly man, Orion, who had clashed with Brandon earlier, was feeding his girlfriend, Hellen, as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, the three lawyers, sitting together, were devouring their meals with reckless abandon, their plates nearly empty within minutes. Those seated nearby stared at them in surprise, but the lawyers remained unfazed. They knew what was coming—soon, no one at this table would have an appetite.

Teresa, seated at the head of the grand table, barely touched her food. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against the silver fork, a quiet but persistent sound that betrayed the storm brewing in her mind. The tension in her expression deepened as she thought of Deacon—her son, her only true obstacle. He knew too much. He was a problem that needed fixing.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Teresa placed her fork down and rose to her feet. Her cold gaze swept across the table, commanding attention without effort. "Excuse me for a moment," she said smoothly. "Please, continue enjoying your meal."

No one questioned her. They simply nodded as she turned and walked away, her heels clicking against the polished floor, each step carrying the weight of an unspoken decision. She made her way down a dimly lit corridor, ensuring she was out of earshot. The sounds of laughter and conversation from the dining hall faded behind her, replaced by a suffocating silence.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her phone, dialed a number, and pressed it to her ear. The line rang twice before a gruff voice answered.

"Yes, Madam. What can I do for you?"

Teresa didn't hesitate. Her voice was low, firm, and absolute. "Keep Deacon as a hostage for some time. I'll tell you when to release him. And make sure he's not harmed—he's still my son."

There was a brief silence on the other end before the voice responded, "Understood."

She ended the call, slipping the phone back into her pocket. For a moment, she stood there, staring at the empty hallway ahead. A strange, unreadable expression crossed her face. Was it hesitation? Guilt? Or just another calculation? Whatever it was, it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Taking a deep breath, Teresa turned back toward the dining hall, her mask of composure slipping back into place.

As Teresa made her way back from the corridor, she didn't return to her seat. Instead, she walked straight to the stage, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. The room wasn't completely silent, but as she took the microphone from the MC, the atmosphere shifted. The people at the dining area sensed that she had something important to say, and one by one, their conversations died down as they turned their attention to her.

The only ones who didn't acknowledge her presence were the three lawyers. They were still devouring their meals, now onto their third plate. Their exaggerated appetite caught the attention of a few guests, who exchanged puzzled glances.

Teresa took a deep breath, her voice smooth yet commanding as she spoke into the microphone. "As we finalize our party, let us take a moment of silence and wish our late Denis Walters to rest in peace."

At once, the crowd bowed their heads, the room falling into solemn stillness.

Teresa allowed the silence to stretch for a few moments before continuing. "Now, the only main thing I want to clarify is my position in this family. Some of you may still doubt that I am the rightful head, and that's understandable. But to settle this once and for all, my lawyers will now read out Denis' will."

The moment the words left her lips, the three lawyers froze mid-bite. Their utensils clattered against their plates as they looked at each other in hesitation. A heavy silence loomed over them.

From the dining area, a deep male voice muttered just loud enough to be heard, "These guys look like they're hiding something bigger… Look at how tense they are."

A ripple of whispers spread through the crowd. People turned to the lawyers, noticing their stiff postures and anxious glances.

Teresa's gaze sharpened. "What are you waiting for? You three, come on stage and read out the will."

The lawyers exchanged one last glance, realizing there was no way out. Henry, the eldest and seemingly the most composed, exhaled deeply and pushed back his chair. Unlike the other two, who were already sweating bullets, he appeared resigned yet determined.

Mark and Xerves hesitated but eventually stood as well, straightening their clothes, though their hands trembled slightly. Henry picked up the briefcase containing the will, securing his grip before walking forward. Mark and Xerves followed behind him, their faces pale, the weight of what was about to unfold pressing down on them.

As they stepped onto the stage, Henry unclasped the briefcase, his movements slow and deliberate. He retrieved the document, his eyes scanning the gathered crowd, who were now watching with anticipation.

A cold hush fell over the room.

And then, he spoke.