He always noticed.
For weeks, his father had been preparing him for this moment. Not lovingly. Strategically. Dorian had promised him a gaming room, new sneakers, a trip to Hawaii, a bedroom with a giant television, and a private soccer coach. But promises were only the shiny part. Beneath them were threats wrapped in guilt.
“Choose me,” Dorian had said one night while Ava cried upstairs, “or your mother will work herself sick trying to feed you. Do you want that on your conscience?”
Another time: “Poor people drag their children down with them, Lucas. Your mother means well, but she is a sinking boat.”
And the worst one, whispered so softly Dorian’s housekeeper could not hear: “If you embarrass me in court, I will make sure your mother loses everything she still has.”
