Chapter 4 - The Empty Seat in the Second Row
In the second row, exactly three seats down from where we sat, Robert’s designated space remained conspicuously vacant.
A sleek, expensive leather portfolio case sat propped against the metal leg of the chair, bearing his initials embossed in gold leaf—R.P. He had sent his driver to drop it off earlier, assuring his business associates that he would be "arriving fashionably late due to an urgent corporate merger meeting."
We all knew the truth.
Robert hadn't been stuck at a merger. He had been hiding. When Ethan told him last night that he was wearing the red dress to graduation, Robert had screamed until the veins in his neck stood out like thick cords. He had called his own son a disgrace, a humiliation to the Pierce name, and swore that if Ethan walked across that stage in costume, he would be disowned, cut off from his college trust fund, and locked out of the family home before the night was over.
"You're dead to me," Robert had roared in the hallway just before slamming the front door. "Don't expect a single dime, and don't expect me to sit in that auditorium while you make a circus out of my reputation!"
Ethan hadn't flinched then, and he certainly wasn't flinching now.
He stood tall in the center aisle of the auditorium, the bright red fabric of the dress smoothing down over his frame, looking less like a humiliated teenager and more like a general standing victorious on a conquered field.
"My father is currently sitting in his downtown office," Ethan announced loudly enough for the surrounding rows to hear every syllable, his voice ringing with absolute clarity. "Waiting for his phone to ring with confirmation that the graduation ceremony went off without a hitch, so he can announce his new partnership at the firm dinner tonight."
Mrs. Henderson gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.
Ethan reached into another hidden pocket of the red dress and pulled out a heavy, cream-colored envelope sealed with a thick red wax stamp bearing an unfamiliar, ancient seal.
He held it out toward me.
"He forgot something important this morning, Mom," Ethan said softly. "Uncle Julian sent this via courier to the house an hour before I left for the ceremony."
My heart hammered against my ribs. Julian. My brother—the one Robert had forced me to cut ties with a decade ago under the threat of losing custody of Ethan. The one Robert thought was living on the other side of the country, entirely cut out of our lives.
May you like
I took the envelope from Ethan’s hand, my fingers shaking so badly I could barely tear the wax seal.
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