The envelope felt heavy in Old Mrs. Bennett's hands. Fifty thousand dollars. Blood money to make me disappear quietly.
"Things become unpleasant?" I repeated. "More unpleasant than having your grandson break into my apartment?"
Liam Bennett's face twitched. His limp was more pronounced tonight.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Old Mrs. Bennett said smoothly.
"Sure you don't."
Owen Murphy stepped forward, sweat beading on his forehead. "Look, Lancaster, just take the money and—"
"Actually, Owen," I interrupted, "I have some news for you."
His nervous smile faltered. "News?"
"Your agency contract with Ubereats won't be renewed next month."
The words came out calm. Matter-of-fact. Like I was discussing the weather.
Owen laughed. "What the hell are you talking about? I've been their general agent for five years."
"Not anymore."
"You're delusional. You're just some loser delivery driver."
"Am I?"
Something in my tone made him step back. The Bennett family was watching our exchange with interest.
"You don't know anything about my business," Owen said, but his voice cracked slightly.
"I know enough."
Old Mrs. Bennett tapped her cane against the sidewalk. "Enough theater. Noah, you're coming inside with us."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes. You are."
Her voice carried absolute authority. The kind of tone that had commanded boardrooms and bent politicians to her will.
"You see, dear boy, you've caused quite enough trouble for my family. It's time to face the consequences."
"What consequences?"
"Our family has rules. Traditions. When someone wrongs us, they answer for it."
Victor Bennett nodded grimly. "The old ways, son. Justice must be served."
"Justice?"
Margaret Bennett's jewelry caught the streetlight. "You've embarrassed our family name. Humiliated our Chloe. That requires... correction."
"Correction?"
"Punishment," Liam said, his voice filled with anticipation. "According to family law."
Old Mrs. Bennett smiled coldly. "One way or another, Noah, you're coming inside. The question is whether you walk in with dignity or we have you dragged."
I looked around. The hotel doorman was watching nervously. Other guests were starting to gather, drawn by the commotion.
"And if I refuse?"
"Then tomorrow morning, you'll find yourself unemployed, evicted, and facing charges for assault." She nodded toward Liam. "My grandson has very expensive medical bills from your little tantrum."
"Self-defense isn't assault."
"Prove it. Without witnesses. Without evidence. Your word against the Bennett family's."
The trap was complete. They'd cornered me perfectly.
"The cake," Owen Murphy said weakly. "Can we just—"
"Shut up, Owen," I said again.
"You can't keep talking to me like that!"
"Watch me."
Old Mrs. Bennett tapped her cane twice. Sharp, commanding sounds.
"Inside. Now."
I looked at the hotel entrance. Through the glass doors, I could see the party continuing. The string quartet. The gold balloons. The banner celebrating eight decades of Bennett family power.
"After you," I said.
Her smile was triumphant.
We walked through the lobby like a funeral procession. Hotel guests stared as we passed. The Bennett family moved with practiced authority, while Owen Murphy scurried behind like a nervous lapdog.
The private dining room was elegant. Dark wood paneling. Crystal chandeliers. A long table set for thirty people.
And at the head of the table, sitting alone, was Chloe.
She looked up as we entered. Her face was pale, her hands trembling slightly. She wore a black dress that hugged her curves, her hair pulled back in an elegant bun.
"Hello, Noah," she said quietly.
"Chloe."
The rest of the family filed in behind us. Aunts, uncles, cousins. All of them watching with hungry eyes.
Old Mrs. Bennett moved to the head of the table. She reached into an ornate wooden box and pulled out something that made my blood run cold.
A ruler. But not just any ruler. This one was carved from dark wood, inlaid with silver dragons. Ancient-looking. Ceremonial.
"The Dragon Ruler," she announced. "Passed down through five generations of Bennett patriarchs."
She held it up for everyone to see.
"This instrument has maintained order in our family for over a century. It has corrected wayward children. Disciplined unfaithful spouses. Punished those who would harm our bloodline."
Her eyes fixed on mine.
"Tonight, it serves justice once more."
Victor Bennett stepped forward eagerly. "Mother, allow me the honor."
"No," Margaret Bennett interrupted. "I should do it. I'm the one who warned you about him from the beginning."
"The hell you will," Liam said, still limping. "He put me in the hospital. I get first crack."
They were arguing over who would get to beat me. Like it was a privilege.
"Silence!" Old Mrs. Bennett commanded.
The room went quiet.
"There is a proper order to these things. The eldest son has the right of first refusal."
Victor Bennett's face lit up. He reached for the ruler.
"However," she continued, "tradition also dictates that the wronged party has the primary claim."
Her gaze moved to Chloe.
"You are his wife. He has shamed you. Betrayed you. Made you a laughingstock among your peers."
Chloe's hands were shaking now.
"The choice is yours, dear. You may claim the Dragon Ruler, or you may defer to your uncle."
The room held its breath. Every eye was on Chloe.
She looked at me. Really looked at me. For a moment, I saw something in her eyes. Regret? Fear? Love?
Then it was gone.
She stood up slowly. Walked to her grandmother. Extended her hand.
"I'll do it," she said.
Old Mrs. Bennett smiled and placed the Dragon Ruler in Chloe's palm.
"As is your right."
Chloe's fingers closed around the ancient wood. She turned to face me.
"As his wife," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "I will be the one to punish him."