Chapter 4: Power and Fragility

The company was more than a business—it was my stepdad’s legacy. With Mason unable to take the reins, the vultures started circling: cousins whispering at family barbecues, aunts dropping hints. Suddenly, I became the golden ticket, the daughter-in-law with something to prove.

The first few weeks at the office were a blur of deadlines and late-night takeout. By the time I made it home, I barely had the strength to peel off my blazer, let alone fight old battles.

One morning, bleary-eyed and running late, I barely noticed Mason’s wary glance as I buttoned his shirt. No snide remarks, no lingering touches—just a rushed, "Here, arms up." I was out the door before he could even react.

During my lunch break, my phone buzzed with a family group text—Mom had snapped a photo of shattered porcelain on the living room floor. My heart sank when I recognized the pieces: the blue-and-white vase from my grandma, worth more than my car.

For a moment, rage flared in my chest. All that money, gone in a heartbeat, because Mason had lost control again.

But then I scrolled up and saw my stepdad’s only response: "Is Mason hurt?" No anger, no blame—just concern. The tension drained from my shoulders. The vase was nothing. Mason was everything to him.

That’s when it really hit me—no matter how much anything else cost, Mason was priceless in this house. Everything else was background noise.

So I typed back, keeping my tone sweet: "Was Mason scared? Should I go back and comfort him?" I could practically hear my stepdad’s sigh of relief through the phone.

My temples throbbed from too much coffee and too little sleep. No amount of ambition was worth running myself into the ground. The thought of curling up in my own bed, even with Mason’s cold shoulder, was suddenly all I wanted.