It Was Never a Gift

Bram stepped in front of the bed before the sound had finished, putting his body between the noise and the child.

“Lower your voice,” he said, “in front of my son.” He did not shout it.

He did not need to.

Leopold shut his mouth.

Then came the first real blow.

The attorney produced a certified copy of Georgiana Rutherford’s original trust agreement, and read the clause aloud — the one the old woman had written in with the foresight of someone who knew exactly what her family was capable of.