At eight thirty, Gerald stood up from table one and struck his silver fork against his wine glass.

The sharp ringing echoed off the wall by the tray station and silenced the ballroom.

“Friends, colleagues, distinguished guests,” Gerald announced, his raspy voice carrying up to the high ceiling.

“We gather tonight to talk about family and loyalty.”

He took two steps toward the aisle, holding his champagne saucer at chest height.

“Building an institution in a town like Greenfield requires total devotion,” Gerald said, sweeping his arm toward the front tables.

“It requires children who respect authority, children who accept guidance, and children who show proper gratitude for the sacrifices made for them.”