Chapter 5: Table Manners and War Zones**
Dinner that evening was a battlefield. Julian sat at the head of the banquet table, buried behind glowing screens and financial spreadsheets, completely ignoring his sons.
Noah intentionally knocked his crystal goblet to the floor. Red juice splattered across the pristine white carpet.
Julian didn't even look up. "Mrs. Gable, clean that up. Leo, sit properly."
"Why bother?" Leo barked, kicking the heavy mahogany table. "You don't care anyway!"
"Leo," Julian warned in a deadpan tone. "Do not embarrass me."
Clara stood up. Without asking for permission, she reached over and firmly closed Julian’s laptop.
The entire room went dead silent. The maid gasped. Julian slowly looked up, his dark eyes ablaze with cold fury.
"Excuse me?" Julian whispered dangerously.
May you like
"Look at your sons, Mr. Sterling," Clara said with unwavering conviction. "They don't want your money. They want their father."
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