Chapter 8 - The War at St. Jude’s
The peace we had built inside Fairhaven Manor was shattered six weeks later at St. Jude’s Preparatory Academy—the elite private school where the Cavanaugh name was worshipped and feared.
Julian Cavanaugh had arranged a major corporate dinner at the school's newly constructed athletic center—a building funded entirely by a five-million-dollar donation from Cavanaugh Shipping.
My brothers and I were forced to attend, dressed in formal blazers, sitting at the primary family table alongside my father, his executive board, and the city's prominent political figures.
Eleanor had been requested by my father to oversee the private catering staff in the executive holding room, ensuring the service met his exact standards.
Trouble began during the main course.
Julian’s lead corporate legal advisor, Arthur Vance—a slimy, arrogant man in his fifties who had personally handled the legal cover-up of Thomas Hargrove's death five years earlier—stepped into the holding kitchen to order a fresh bottle of vintage wine.
I had stepped into the corridor to escape the suffocating corporate small talk when I heard Vance’s condescending voice coming from the kitchen doorway.
"You look familiar, girl," Vance said, his tone greasy and intoxicated as he leaned against the counter near Eleanor. "Hargrove... Hargrove... Ah, yes. The dock worker's daughter. Julian hired Thomas Hargrove's girl as a servant? That's poetic."
Eleanor continued wiping down the silver tray, ignoring him completely. "The wine is on the sideboard, Mr. Vance."
Vance reached out, grabbing her wrist with a wet, heavy grip. "Don't act high and mighty with me, girl. Your father was a low-class laborer who died because he was careless on the docks. You should be grateful the Cavanaugh family gives you a roof over your head."
Before Eleanor could pull away, a heavy hand slammed onto Vance’s shoulder, spinning him around with terrifying force.
It was Caleb.
My eighteen-year-old brother looked like a demon released from hell. His eyes were dark with violent rage, his broad shoulders tensed as he shoved Arthur Vance backward into a rack of glass stemware.
The sound of shattering crystal echoed through the kitchen.
"Touch her again," Caleb growled, his voice a low, terrifying vibration, "and I will break every bone in your hands."
Vance stumbled back, his face red with shock and embarrassment. "You crazy brat! I am your father's chief counsel!"
"I don't give a damn who you are!" Caleb roared, stepping forward with his fists raised.
I rushed into the room, grabbing Caleb around the chest to hold him back, while Leo and Toby appeared in the doorway, their faces pale with shock.
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Vance straightened his tie, looking at Eleanor with pure malice. "She's corrupting you boys! She's a low-life leech feeding off your family!"
Caleb snapped. He threw off my grip, lunged forward, and hit Arthur Vance with a devastating right hook that sent the attorney flying across the room, crashing through the double doors into the grand banquet hall in front of two hundred wealthy guests.
