3. The Puppet Master’s Welcome
1703 Words
Mia’s POV
The dining room looked less like a place for family meals and more like the private board of directors’ chamber for a shadowy empire.
A long, polished mahogany table stretched across a room bathed in warm, recessed lighting. High back leather chairs lined both sides, while a massive floor-to-ceiling glass wall looked out over the lit-up Bel-Air valley below.
My father and Eleanor were already seated near the foot of the table, laughing softly over crystal glasses of sparkling water. Lucas was slumped in a chair opposite them, indolently twirling a heavy gold signet ring on his pinky finger. He had changed into a dark tailored shirt, his hair styled into effortlessly messy waves.
When I stepped across the threshold, his ocean-blue eyes snapped to mine. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips, as if he could still smell the tension on my skin from my encounter with his brother.
“Mia, sweetheart, come sit!” my father called out, waving his hand toward an empty chair beside him. “You look lovely.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I murmured, smoothing down the skirt of my dark green dress as I pulled out the heavy mahogany chair.
As I sat, I felt the unmistakable weight of someone watching me. I glanced across the table. Sebastian was sitting two chairs down from Lucas, his massive frame slouched back, a glass of dark scotch held casually in one large hand. His dark eyes locked onto mine, unwavering and intensely hostile.
My mind flashed back to his words in my bedroom—Stay out of my way. Don’t wander around at night. And above all…stay out of the basement.
I held his stare, refusing to look away first, even as my pulse thudded in my throat.
Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the far end of the dining room clicked open.
The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The light banter between my father and Eleanor died away. Lucas straightened slightly in his chair, dropping the playful smirk, and even Sebastian took a measured sip of his scotch, his posture sharpening.
A man walked into the room, adjusting the French cuffs of his crisp white dress shirt under a tailored charcoal suit jacket.
He was thirty, but he carried an authority that felt ancient. He was taller than both Lucas and Sebastian, with dark brown hair neatly combed back, a sharp, aristocratic jawline, and eyes of icy, penetrating gray. He didn’t look angry or aggressive like Sebastian, nor deceptively sweet like Lucas. He looked completely, terrifyingly in control of everything and everyone around him.
Micah Montgomery.
“Sorry I’m late, Mother,” Micah said, his voice a deep, quiet baritone that filled the room without being raised a fraction. “The closing on the Tokyo acquisition ran over.”
“Nonsense, darling,” Eleanor said smoothly, her eyes lighting up with genuine pride. “We were just getting settled.”
Micah stepped toward the head of the table—the seat of honor—and pulled out the throne-like chair. But before he sat, his icy gray eyes drifted down the table, skipping over my father entirely, and pinned themselves onto me.
The air in my lungs froze. His gaze felt cold, calculating, and heavy, like a microscope slide examining a bug.
“You must be Mia,” Micah said.
“I am,” I replied, keeping my voice as flat and even as possible. “Nice to meet you, Micah.”
Micah pulled out his chair and sat down, unfolding a white linen napkin and placing it over his lap with slow, deliberate precision.
“A pleasure,” he murmured, though his tone was entirely devoid of warmth. “Arthur has spoken about you often. It’s rare for a daughter to be so distant from her father’s affairs.”
My father let out a tight, nervous laugh. “Well, Mia was focused on finishing her high school exams back home, Micah. She’s a brilliant girl. Head of her class.”
“Brilliant,” Micah repeated softly, taking a sip of the red wine a butler had silently poured for him. His grey eyes stayed fixed on me over the rim of his glass. “Intelligence is a valuable trait, Arthur. But curiosity…curiosity in this house can be exceptionally dangerous.”
The table went dead silent.
Lucas let out a low, breathless chuckle, cutting a piece of his prime rib. Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his knuckles white as he gripped his scotch glass.
I swallowed hard, feeling the hidden thread running beneath Micah’s words. He wasn’t just talking about my grades. He was setting the boundary lines.
“I’m not here to pry into anyone’s affairs,” I said, holding Micah’s piercing glare. “I’m just here to spend time with my dad before I start university.”
“Of course,” Micah said, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “Family is paramount. Isn’t that right, Arthur?”
“Absolutely, Micah,” my father agreed immediately, nodding like a man eager to please his boss. “Family above everything.”
“Which is why,” Micah continued, his dark grey eyes never leaving mine, “we maintain absolute privacy in this household. My brothers and I handle business that requires strict confidentiality. Some areas of this estate—such as the east wing offices and the lower subterranean levels—are strictly off-limits. To everyone.”
My chest tightened. The lower subterranean levels. The basement.
Sebastian had warned me about the basement in my room, but hearing it come from Micah—the head of the house—made it clear that this wasn’t just a petty brotherly rule. It was a law.
“I understand,” I said quietly.
“Good,” Micah said, a faint, razor-thin smile touching the corners of his lips. “Because I would hate for a misunderstanding to disrupt your father’s position here.”
It was a thread wrapped in silk. A direct, veiled threat. Obey, or your father pays the price. My stomach churned with a sudden spike of anger and fear.
Throughout the rest of the meal, the conversation moved to business, real estate, and market stocks. My father spoke animatedly, trying desperately to fit into the high-stakes world of the Montgomerys, entirely oblivious to the predatory glances being thrown around the table.
Lucas kept watching me with that dangerous, amused smirk, as if waiting for me to crack. Sebastian remained a brooding, silent shadow, his dark eyes tracking my every movement—every time I reached for my water glass, every time I breathed. And Micah sat at the head of the table, a king observing his subjects, exuding a cold dominance that made the luxurious room feel like an iron vault.
By the time dinner ended and Eleanor excused herself, the tension in the room was suffocating.
“I’ll take my coffee in the study, Micah,” my father said, standing up and smoothing his jacket. “We can review those Q3 projections.”
“Go ahead, Arthur. I’ll join you in a moment,” Micah said smoothly.
My father gave my shoulder a quick, affectionate squeeze before following Eleanor out of the dining room. I stood up immediately, desperate to escape to my room and lock the door.
“Leaving so soon, step-sister?” Lucas asked, leaning back in his chair with his hands folded behind his head.
“It’s been a long day,” I said, stepping away from the table. “I’m going to sleep.”
I turned toward the double doors, but as I passed Sebastian’s chair, his long arm reached out, his heavy hand catching my wrist. His grip wasn’t painful, but it was absolute iron.
I froze, my skin searing where his palm touched mine.
“Remember what I said, Mia,” Sebastian growled softly, his dark eyes burning into mine from below. His voice was low enough that only I could hear. “You don’t wander. You don’t look around. You stay in your room.”
I tried to pull my arm back, but his fingers held tight.
“Let go of me, Sebastian,” I whispered sharply.
“Let her go, Sebastian,” Micah’s calm, commanding voice cut through the air from the head of the table.
Sebastian held my gaze for one long, agonizing second before slowly uncurling his fingers. I snatched my arm back, my heart pounding violently against my ribs.
“She heard the rules,” Micah said, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. He walked slowly down the length of the table, stopping right in front of me. He was towering, smelling of dark tobacco and expensive cologne. He reached out, his long fingers gently tucking a loose strand of dark hair behind my ear.
His touch was cold, precise, and terrified me far more than Sebastian’s rough grip.
“She’s a smart girl,” Micah whispered, his grey eyes pinning me to the floor. “She knows what happens to people who don’t follow the rules.”
I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe.
Micah offered me a cold, polite nod before walking past me toward the study, his footsteps echoing softly on the marble floor. Lucas gave me one final, wicked wink before following his eldest brother out, leaving me alone in the vast dining room with Sebastian.
Sebastian stood up, brushing past me so closely his shoulder clipped mine. “Goodnight, step-sister,” he muttered darky, before turning down the hallway toward the restricted east wing.
I stood alone in the quiet dining room, the heavy silence settling back over the estate.
They thought they had terrified me into submission. They thought their cold threats and possessive warnings would keep me locked in my room like a good little trophy daughter.
But as I looked down the dark hallway leading toward the restricted wing—toward the basement they were all so desperate to hide—a dangerous, stubborn fire ignited in my chest.
They had secrets. Secrets that held my father’s entire future in their hands.
And no matter what Micah, Sebastian, or Lucas threatened…I was going to find out what was down there.
- Writer
