The Lion's Den
Jessica Lance did not just enter the Lance estate; she detonated within it.
She slammed the heavy oak front doors so hard that the crystal chandelier in the foyer gave a faint, melodic shiver, its droplets tinkling like a warning bell. Her breathing was ragged, her face flushed a blotchy, uneven red that ruined the carefully applied "innocent" makeup she had donned for the occasion. The silence of the house—usually a sanctuary of sophisticated calm and hushed wealth—felt like a personal insult to her spiraling ego.
"Mommy! Daddy!" she shrieked, her voice echoing up the grand sweeping staircase and into the rafters of the high-ceilinged foyer.
Angelica Lance appeared first, her silk robe fluttering behind her like a pale, ghostly shadow. She rushed to the mahogany landing, her face etched with that immediate, practiced concern she always reserved for her eldest daughter.
"Jessica? Darling, what on earth is wrong? You're trembling, child!"
As she moved down the stairs towards her daughter, Jessica moved to the nearest sitting room.
Jessica wasn't ready to answer her mother just yet. Instead, she collapsed – dramatically - into a high-backed velvet wing chair in the sitting room, burying her face in her hands and letting out a sob that sounded more like a frustrated growl. Angelica was at her side in an instant, smoothing Jessica's hair and casting a worried glance toward the hallway.
"It's Amber," Jessica finally wailed, her voice muffled by her palms. "She's... she's finally done it. She's completely poisoned Dan's mind. She's tell him lies about me."
She whimpered dramatically and leaned into her mother.
"He says he will not take care of his babies now mommy. Amber! My own sister, has lied on me."
She wailed dramatically again and then gave a huge hiccup when she heard her mother whisper – "Amber Ann and Dan are speaking again?"
Damon Sr. strolled down the stairs moments later. He didn't rush. He moved with the slow, deliberate gait of a man who had spent his life watching people's tells. He held a glass of amber liquid in his hand, the ice clinking softly, and a look of detached curiosity on his face. He didn't enter the room.
Instead, he leaned against the doorframe, his shadow long and imposing against the expensive wallpaper, watching his eldest daughter's performance with narrowed, discerning eyes.
"She's telling him lies, Daddy!" Jessica cried – as if on cue - looking up from the palms of her hands. Her eyes weren't actually tearful; they were burning with a sharp, cold fury that she couldn't quite mask. "She's convinced him that I'm some sort of monster. He's threatening me! He talked about process servers and private detectives. How could my own sister do this to me while I'm in this condition? While I'm carrying his children?"
Angelica was immediately enraged, her posture stiffening as she turned to her husband. "Damon, do you hear this? This has gone too far. I told you Amber was becoming spiteful. She is out of control. If Dan is the father of those children, then he is the father! No amount of 'investigation' or biochemist trickery changes the blood in those babies' veins. It's a disgrace to the family name."
Damon Sr. took a slow, methodical sip of his drink. He let the silence stretch, the only sound being the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. He waited until Jessica began to shift uncomfortably, her "victim" mask slipping under his silent scrutiny.
Then, he chuckled. It was a low, dry sound that had no humor in it—only the cold realization of a man who had finally seen the man behind the curtain.
"Actually," Damon said, his voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous, "it sounds to me like they've simply done their homework. They hired a PI to follow you, Jessica. Perhaps your little 'scheme' has finally been exposed. I've been a businessman long enough to know when someone is overplaying a hand."
The color drained from Jessica's face, leaving her looking ghostly and sallow in the dim light of the sitting room. "Scheme? Daddy, how can you say that? I'm your eldest daughter!"
She stumbled. Her eyes flicking to her mother. Her father was the only one who truly knew her and most of her secrets. He was the one she went to whenever she needed help.
Her father's eyes narrowed. A knowing look spreading across his face. He had recognized her stumble for what it was – and she knew it.
Damon Sr. didn't answer her with words. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The blue light of the screen reflected in his eyes, making them look like cold flint.
"What are you doing?" Jessica asked, her voice jumping a full octave. She lunged forward, her hands beginning to tremble for real this time. "Who are you calling?"
Damon shrugged, his face a mask of absolute calm. "I'm calling Amber Ann."
"Why?!" Jessica nearly tripped over the hem of her designer skirt as she tried to reach for his arm. "She'll just lie to you! She's been plotting this for months! She'll tell you whatever she needs to get your support and keep Dan's money!"
Angelica Lance watched the scene with mild confusion – not sure how to effectively help her daughter.
Damon Sr. looked at his daughter, his gaze cold and unflinching, stripping away years of favoritism in a single second. "I've spent thirty years listening to your side of every story, Jessica. And Angelica, I've watched you enable this drama for far too long because it was easier than facing the truth. I think it's about time I got the other side for a change."
He paused, his thumb hovering over the dial button. "Let's see if your sister's 'poison' tastes any more like the truth than your honey does."
He hit the dial button and set the phone on the small marble table between them. The ringing tone filled the room—a steady, rhythmic sound that felt like a countdown.
Angelica looked horrified, her hand clutching her throat as if she were the one being accused – but still her other hand found her daughter's shoulder. She wanted Jessica to know that she was still there for her. Jessica stared at the phone as if it were a live grenade, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. On the third ring, the line clicked open, and the speakerphone broadcasted the sounds of a breeze, birds, and a large group of people speaking in the distance.
Even as Damon Sr smiled with pride, Jessica had a sour look of jealousy and spite on her face.
"Hello, Daddy?"
Amber's voice was clear, resonant, and completely devoid of the shaky self-doubt that used to define her. She sounded like a woman who was standing in the center of her own power, unfazed by the shadows of her past.
Damon Sr. looked at his wife and his eldest daughter—a predatory, Lion-like smile spreading across his face.
"Hello, honey," he said into the speaker, his voice steady. "Your sister is here at the house. She seems to think you've been telling Dan some rather... creative stories about her.
Why don't you tell me what's really going on? And don't leave out a single detail about that Private Investigator's report."