Chapter 3 - THE CHILD'S EYE
Behind the linen drapery near the hall entrance, six-year-old Toby stood motionless.
His small hands clutched a battered wooden toy train, its yellow paint chipped at the edges.
He watched his mother’s stained silk dress and his father’s dark, rigid back.
Toby didn't understand inheritances, trust funds, or family bloodlines.
In his simple world, when someone dropped food on the floor, you helped them pick it up.
When someone cried, you gave them your favorite toy.
He stepped out from behind the velvet curtain, his tiny sneakers clicking quietly against the floorboards.
He walked past the glittering tables, stopping right beside the fallen wine glass.
"Grandma," Toby said softly, his voice clear in the heavy silence.
"You spilled your juice on Mommy."
Victoria didn't look at the child.
"Go back to the nanny, Toby," she snapped without turning her head.
Toby looked down at his toy train, his thumb brushing over the broken plastic wheel.
May you like
"The train doesn't work when it's broken," Toby whispered to the floor.
"Mommy's dress is broken now too."
