Chapter Four ~ The Fosters Part 2
1399 Words
“Chris, what about the upcoming elections... how are you holding it down?” The question dropped into the dining room like a stone into still water.
Helena’s silverware clinked softly, and the boys looked up from their plates. Richard had already retreated to his room upstairs, leaving the atmosphere slightly less suffocating, but not by much. Frederick Foster didn’t need an audience to dominate a room.
Chris dabbed his mouth with a napkin, then leaned back with a practiced confidence. “Uh—uh" he cleared his throat.
"Dad… everything’s moving according to plan. The opponent’s still refusing to take the bribe and step down permanently. But it’s not an issue. I’ve got it under control.”
Frederick arched a brow. “And what do you mean by under control?”
Ethan paused mid-air, his gaze fixed on Chris's lips, as though reading every word before they drop.
Chris smirked, lowering his voice as if this were just another item on his checklist. “I’ll pay his family a visit. I heard he’s got three kids. Let’s see how long he can keep playing tough once he realizes what’s at stake.”
A slow, approving smile crept onto Frederick’s face. “Good. Do that. Just keep it clean. I don’t want the press on my ass again... it’s bad for business.”
Stacey stopped chewing. The words hit her like ice water. She stared at her father… then at Chris… then back at the table, disbelief building under her skin.
Her brothers kept eating, unbothered. They were born into this darkness. But Chris? He didn’t just mirror their father, he amplified him. Ruthless. Calculated and Ambitious. He was Frederick’s pride—or rather is Fredrick's pride.
Stacey swallowed hard, the disgust finally spilling over. “Oh my God… you’re really a demon.”
The dining room froze. Frederick’s fork hovered mid-air. Helena’s breath paused for a second.
Stacey pushed her chair back a little, her voice trembling with anger. “How are you sitting here encouraging your own son to do something like that? Like it’s just… business?”
Helena immediately reached for her hand, whispering. “Stacey, not now...”
“Mom, please. Let go.” Stacey pulled her hand back, eyes locked on her father.
“How... how did I even end up in a family like this?” she asked, voice breaking. “You have no empathy. You have no heart. You treat your own children like trash... like military tools. LIKE MACHINES. Till when, Dad? Till when will it stop?”
Frederick slowly lowered his fork, his eyes narrowing.
“I see London made you feel special... and soft, hmm? You think you’re different from us now? Let me remind you...” he pointed at her.
“The same ruthlessness you’re complaining about is what gave you your life. Your degree. Your job. Your trips around the world. Your connections. The roof over your head. Your bank account. All of that exists because of me. My pain. My sweat. AND MY GRIND. And you’ve got the nerves to sit there and judge me?”
“Dad...” Stacey called out.
“Get out.” Frederick cut in, he was not having it. Not a single smirk on his face.
Stacey stiffened, with words still on her mind. “What?”
His voice ripped through the room again, but heavier this time. “GET THE f**k OUT!”
The table rattled. Helena flinched. Stacey’s knees weakened under the weight of the shout.
“Frederick, she’s your child...calm down!” Helena pleaded, gripping the edge of her chair.
He didn’t even look at her.
“She’s not my child if she can’t recognize gratitude. I built everything she’s enjoying. I carried this family. I carved our name into this city with my own hands. And now she thinks she’s woman enough to throw judgment at me? She’s forgotten where she came from.”
Stacey stood up, she was shaking and terrified, but refusing to back down.
“You might’ve given me a life, Dad… but none of it makes you a good man. It doesn’t erase what you do. It doesn’t change the monster you’ve become. And you’ve gone so deep into whatever darkness you’re drowning in… I don’t even think God himself can save you anymore.”
She didn’t wait for his response. She turned and bolted—her footsteps echoing down the hallway, the sound was sharp and panicked.
“Stacey? Stacey!” Helena rose, calling after her, but Stacey didn’t stop.
Helena sank back into her chair. “Frederick… this was supposed to be a peaceful dinner. Why must you always do this every time we’re gathered as a family?”
Frederick leaned back, picking up his glass of champagne. “As long as it keeps them in their damn senses, I don’t give a fuck.”
Helena stared at the untouched food.
“Now who’s going to eat all of this?”
Chris slid Stacey’s plate toward himself, unfazed. “I will mom.”
Helena looked at him as if seeing the devil twice in one room. She sighed—tired and defeated. But Chris kept eating not giving a damn.
“Dad, the budget for the program has been cut to two million dollars” Ethan said, his voice steady. As CFO of the company, he knew this kind of thing never sat well with Fredrick.
Fredrick’s brows pulled together. “What? What the hell went wrong?”
“The board isn’t impressed” Ethan explained. “They don’t believe we’ll recover the four million we lost on the last investment... and honestly, I don’t blame them. I told you some of these programs aren’t worth it.”
Fredrick leaned back, scoffing. “Ethan, everything I do is worth it.”
Ethan exhaled slowly—the kind of sigh that said here we go again.
“Dad...”
“That's enough...”
At the far end of the table, Daniel, the eldest, kept eating quietly. He hadn’t said a word since dinner began.
Fredrick continued, “We need that scholarship program, not for business. But for your brother’s campaign. We need the public’s sympathy. We need to clean his image so he wins the election. What the hell is two million dollars supposed to do? The company is worth billions. Four million won’t bankrupt us"
“Dad...” Ethan argued. “I can’t force the board to increase the budget. It’s decided already, and honestly? Two million dollars is a decent amount for this event. Not like Chris is gonna win the election anyway...it’s not worth it.”
Chris stopped eating and glared at Ethan. “What the hell? Dad, are you hearing this? I won the primaries without even trying. None of those clowns can touch me.”
Ethan didn’t look impressed. “If you’re so unstoppable, then why are you out there bribing and threatening their families? Can't touch you, huh?”
Chris pushed his chair back so hard it scraped. “You son of a...”
"Oh my gosh, people!” Helena snapped. “Can I just eat? What’s wrong with all of you?”
“Ask your son, mom” Chris shot back. “He thinks he’s better than me.”
Fredrick stood up, done with the argument. “Ethan, you’ll get the board to approve at least three million. We hoard a million for your brothers political campaign. This cannot go wrong.”
“But Dad...”
“Goodnight.” He was already walking away.
Chris rose a moment later, brushing past Ethan while lifting a hand as if to strike him—mockingly, but Ethan didn’t even flinch. "You think you're better than me?" Chris scoffed and walked off.
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Helena finally looked at Daniel. “Daniel, dear, are you alright?”
“Yes, Mom. I just don’t have the energy for all of this. I’m going to my room.”
As he stood, Carlota moved in to clear the dishes and accidentally stepped on his foot. Daniel shoved her to the floor without hesitation.
“Watch it woman.”
Carlota quickly stood up gathering herself as she apologized in her soft accent "I am so sorry Mister Daniel" and continued clearing the table.
Daniel disappeared upstairs.
Helena and Ethan remained seated, neither of them giving a damn anymore.
- Writer
