Chapter 5 - The Reunion of Wolves
Michael stopped dead in his tracks as Margaret emerged from the shadows of the living room. The confident, mocking smirk on his face faltered for a fraction of a second before he smoothly recovered, adjusting the lapel of his wet trench coat.
"Mother," Michael said, dipping his head in a mock gesture of respect. "I see age hasn't softened your tongue. I suppose you're still guarding the family silver like a dragon on a pile of bones."
"I guard more than silver, Michael," Margaret replied, her voice steady and devoid of warmth. "I guard the truth. And right now, the truth is standing in my hallway tracking mud onto my Persian rugs."
Clara appeared behind Margaret, keeping Lily firmly tucked behind her skirt. When Michael’s eyes landed on Clara, his expression hardened into something cold and sharp. The casual amusement vanished, replaced by a deep, simmering malice that had clearly festered over ten long years of exile.
"Clara," Michael breathed, his voice dropping an octave. "You haven't aged a day. Guilt must be an excellent preservative."
"Get out of this house, Michael," Clara said, her voice shaking despite her best efforts to sound fierce. She gripped Lily’s shoulder tighter, feeling the little girl tremble. "You have no right to come back here after everything you did."
"Everything I did?" Michael laughed, taking a slow step toward them. "If I remember correctly, you were the one holding the pen when the corporate accounts were drained to cover Julian's gambling debts. I was just the convenient scapegoat you and my dear brother decided to throw off a cliff."
Julian stepped forward, putting himself between Michael and his family. "That's a lie, and you know it. You stole from the company, Michael. You ruined us, and we did what we had to do to survive."
"Survive?" Michael sneered, his eyes flashing with sudden fury. He reached inside his trench coat, his hand disappearing into the deep inner pocket.
Clara gasped, instinctively shoving Lily behind the heavy mahogany table in the hallway. Margaret didn't flinch, her hand resting firmly over the envelope in her pocket.
Instead of a weapon, Michael pulled out a thick manila folder, slightly damp from the rain. He tossed it casually onto the hall table, where it landed with a heavy thud right in front of Clara.
"Those aren't corporate files, Julian," Michael said quietly, his eyes locked on his brother. "Those are adoption papers. Or rather... custody revocation papers for little Lily."
Julian stared at the manila folder in absolute disbelief. "What are you talking about?"
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"I'm talking about the fact that Lily isn't your daughter, Julian," Michael smiled darkly. "She belongs to me."
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