Victor’s fingers tightened around the back of his chair.
Hannah understood then that this was the real dinner test.
Not the food.
Power.
Every adult before her had apparently entered the contest the boys offered.
Win the meal.
Win obedience.
Win control.
Hannah refused the game.
“No.”
Mason blinked.
“No?”
“I won’t make you eat.”
His confidence returned.
“Then you fail.”
“Possibly.”
“You’ll lose your job.”
“I don’t have the job yet.”
“Your son—”
Hannah leaned closer, not threatening, simply making sure he heard every word.
“My son is not your weapon.”
Mason’s mouth closed.
“You can say no to chicken,” she continued.
“You can say no to me.
But you do not get to hurt people to find out whether they’ll stay.”
Mason looked down.
Hannah nudged the serving dish an inch closer to him.
“And I’m not going anywhere before eight.”
For several seconds he did nothing.
Then Theo spoke.
“She’s still here.”
Mason shot him an irritated look.
Theo took another carrot.
“She’s still here even though you did the plate thing.”
Oliver said, “And you called her poor.”
Noah added, “Which was rude.”
Mason stared at his brothers in disbelief.
“You were all doing it too.”
“We know,” Noah said.
That answer somehow broke the tension.
Oliver laughed.
Theo laughed next.
Even Victor’s mouth twitched.
Mason looked around the table, furious that his army had dissolved without consulting him.
Then his stomach growled.
Everyone heard it.
Oliver nearly fell sideways laughing.
“Shut up.”
“You’re hungry!”
“I am not.”
His stomach growled again.
This time Hannah smiled.
Not victoriously.
Just enough.
Mason reached for the chicken.
7:39.
