HUSH. Episode 24
1374 Words
The grand dining hall of the Raymond Estate glowed beneath magnificent crystal chandeliers.
A table long enough to host dozens of guests was filled with exquisite dishes prepared by the estate’s finest chefs.
Every seat was occupied.
The Raymond children.
Their spouses.
The grandchildren.
Laughter and conversation echoed throughout the room.
Yet the man seated at the head of the table felt nothing but exhaustion.
The Raymond patriarch slowly cut into his steak, his expression calm despite the storm brewing within him.
“…The northern branch should really be transferred to my son.”
“No, Father promised I’d oversee that expansion.”
“What about the vacation house? We still haven’t discussed who gets it.”
“I heard the investment dividends increased this quarter.”
One conversation after another revolved around the same subject.
Money.
Properties.
Inheritance.
The old man quietly listened.
Not one person mentioned the company’s future.
Not one person spoke about new investments.
Not one person discussed expanding the family business.
His grip around the knife tightened almost imperceptibly.
Again…
It’s always the same.
Across from him, the Raymond matriarch noticed the subtle change in her husband’s expression.
She knew exactly what he was thinking.
One of their sons chuckled.
“If Father retires completely, we’ll finally reorganize the board.”
Another grandson grinned.
“I’ve already got plans for my share.”
The patriarch slowly raised his eyes.
“My share…”
He repeated the words silently.
Not once had the young man said our responsibility.
Only…
My share.
The old man’s appetite vanished.
He remembered countless family dinners just like this.
Every single one ending with someone discussing wealth.
Never legacy.
Never responsibility.
Never sacrifice.
His thoughts drifted to Damian.
The only grandson who had ever walked into this dining hall carrying financial reports instead of inheritance proposals.
The only one who had stayed late into the night discussing contracts, overseas acquisitions, and strategies to keep the Raymond name at the top.
Even as a teenager…
Damian had cared more about building the empire than inheriting it.
The old man could still remember him saying—
“If we only protect what our ancestors built, we’ll eventually lose it. We have to build something even greater.”
A faint smile threatened to appear.
But it quickly disappeared as another voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Father.”
One of his daughters leaned forward.
“Have you thought about dividing the southern estates while everyone is here?”
The room suddenly grew interested.
Several grandchildren immediately joined the conversation.
“That’s a good idea.”
“It’ll save time later.”
“We should settle these things now.”
The Raymond patriarch slowly placed his fork on the table.
The soft metallic sound instantly silenced the room.
Every eye turned toward him.
His voice was calm.
“So…”
“You’ve all gathered here…”
“…to discuss what you’ll receive after I’m gone.”
No one answered.
Some lowered their eyes.
Others shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
The old man looked from one face to another.
Faces that shared his blood…
Yet felt strangely unfamiliar.
“I spent decades building this family.”
“I expected my children to strengthen it.”
His gaze settled on his eldest son.
“Instead…”
“You’ve all become experts at calculating what belongs to you.”
The silence became suffocating.
The Raymond matriarch quietly reached for her teacup, saying nothing.
She agreed with every word.
The patriarch rose from his chair.
“I’ve lost my appetite.”
Without another glance at the untouched feast, he walked toward the dining hall doors.
Halfway there, he stopped.
His back remained turned to the family.
“Do you know why Damian rarely joins these dinners?”
No one dared answer.
A bitter smile crossed the old man’s face.
“Because he once told me…”
“…that listening to all of you argue about inheritance made him feel like the only thing keeping this family together was the expectation of my funeral.”
The words struck the room like thunder.
Several family members froze in disbelief.
The old man closed his eyes briefly.
There was a time he had dismissed Damian’s words as harsh.
Now…
Sitting through another dinner filled with greed and entitlement…
He realized his grandson had been telling the truth.
Without another word, the Raymond patriarch left the dining hall.
The heavy doors closed behind him.
The laughter that had filled the room moments earlier had vanished, replaced by a silence no one had the courage to break.
The cozy dining room of the little cottage glowed beneath the warm light of a single hanging lamp.
The evening was peaceful.
Unlike the grand banquet halls of luxurious mansions, this table was small, its wooden surface worn with age and years of memories.
Yet it felt more welcoming than any place Damian had dined in for a long time.
The aroma of home-cooked food filled the air.
A steaming pot of beef stew sat in the center of the table, accompanied by freshly baked bread, roasted vegetables, and bowls of fragrant rice.
Earlier that afternoon, Damian had gone to Harmony Town’s market to buy fresh beef after the old lady mentioned she hadn’t cooked it in weeks.
On his way back, he had remembered something Rebecca had casually said a few days ago.
“I miss the taste of fruit wine.”
She hadn’t asked him to buy any.
She had simply mentioned it in passing.
So, before leaving the market, he had picked up a bottle of locally made fruit wine.
Now it rested on the table beside the meal.
Rebecca blinked in surprise when she noticed it.
“You actually bought it?”
Damian looked up from serving the old lady.
“You said you missed it.”
“I did…” Rebecca replied, smiling softly. “I just didn’t think you remembered.”
“I remember most things.”
His answer was so matter-of-fact that it made her laugh.
The old lady watched the exchange with an amused smile.
“He’s more attentive than he lets on.”
Damian pretended not to hear as he placed another piece of beef into the old lady’s bowl.
“You should eat while it’s hot.”
The elderly woman smiled warmly.
“Thank you.”
Rebecca uncorked the bottle of fruit wine and inhaled its sweet aroma.
“It’s been so long.”
She poured a small amount into three glasses.
The old lady raised an eyebrow.
“You’re giving me some too?”
“Just a little,” Rebecca teased. “It’s fruit wine, not strong liquor.”
The old lady chuckled.
“Then I suppose one glass won’t hurt.”
Damian lifted his own glass.
“To good health.”
The two women smiled and raised theirs.
“To good health.”
The soft clink of glass echoed through the little dining room.
For a while, no one spoke.
There was only the sound of cutlery, quiet laughter, and the occasional compliment about the meal.
Rebecca took a sip of the fruit wine and closed her eyes briefly.
“It tastes even better than I remembered.”
“I’m glad,” Damian said simply.
She looked at him with curiosity.
“You’ve been to the market almost every day this week.”
He nodded.
“The vendors know you already.”
“They’re friendly.”
Rebecca smiled.
“I heard Mrs. Collins at the vegetable stall telling another customer that you’re the most polite young man she’s met.”
The old lady laughed.
“She’s been saying that since the second day he came here.”
Damian looked faintly embarrassed.
“I only buy vegetables.”
“You also carry bags for half the people in the market,” the old lady added with a knowing grin.
Rebecca laughed.
“So that’s why everyone likes you.”
Damian shook his head.
“They’re kind people.”
For a moment, silence settled over the table again.
Not the uncomfortable silence of strangers…
But the peaceful silence shared by people who enjoyed one another’s company.
Outside, the evening breeze rustled through the trees.
Inside, the little cottage felt warm and alive.
- Writer
