Chapter 7 - THE SIXTH BIRTHDAY
Matteo lost his trust challenge.
The original codicil was authenticated.
Serena’s testimony established concealment.
The courier record helped prove the pregnancy report had been intercepted.
Matteo was removed permanently from any Cross Family Trust authority.
Then came the larger problem.
The triplets turned six.
At 12:01 a.m. on their birthday, legal voting control of thirty percent of Cross Holdings shifted to the boys’ guardian.
Me.
I hated it.
Gabriel found that amusing.
“Now you understand.”
“Shut up.”
“You control more voting power than Matteo ever did.”
“I design charity dinners.”
“You also ran my household better than most executives ran departments.”
“That is sexist.”
“Accurate and sexist can coexist.”
I glared.
He smiled.
This was new too.
We could argue without the entire room reorganizing around his mood.
Michael and Rachel helped restructure the trust.
I did not want sole unilateral control over companies I barely understood.
So we established an independent fiduciary committee.
I retained guardian consent rights for major decisions affecting the children’s interests.
Gabriel retained his own separate voting shares.
No one person controlled everything.
Jonathan Cross would probably have hated it.
Good.
The criminal side of Gabriel’s world was harder.
Matteo had been deeply connected to it.
His removal created instability.
Gabriel faced a choice.
Reassert total control violently.
Or reduce what needed controlling.
He chose the second.
Not all at once.
He began severing operations from illegal revenue.
Closing cash businesses.
Selling properties used by crews he no longer wanted around his sons.
Some men called him weak.
One disappeared to Florida.
Another joined a rival.
Gabriel survived.
Then someone fired into one of his warehouse windows.
No injuries.
But the boys were supposed to visit his Manhattan office the following day.
I canceled immediately.
Gabriel did not argue.
That was how I knew he was truly changing.
Old Gabriel would have said he could guarantee safety.
New Gabriel said:
“You're right.”
He moved meetings elsewhere.
Three months later, he resigned from two businesses too entangled with violence to clean quickly.
Money disappeared.
Reputation shifted.
Gabriel became less powerful in certain rooms.
More welcome in ours.
On the boys’ sixth birthday, he arrived with one present each.
Dr. Greene had finally relaxed the rule.
Alexander received a telescope.
Ben got a beginner’s microscope.
Caleb received a box of high-quality colored pencils because he drew constantly.
No watches.
No trust documents.
No miniature luxury cars.
I was impressed.
Then Gabriel brought out a fourth box.
“For you.”
“No.”
“You haven’t opened it.”
“Still no.”
The boys groaned.
“Mom!”
Gabriel smiled.
“It’s not jewelry.”
Suspicious.
I opened it.
Inside was my old wedding photograph.
Not the portrait of us kissing.
A candid picture.
Me laughing while Gabriel struggled with a boutonniere.
I stared.
“Why?”
“The boys asked what our wedding looked like.”
My throat tightened.
“They should know we were happy once.”
I looked at him.
He continued:
“I don't want them to think they came from only betrayal.”
That was surprisingly wise.
I placed the photograph on the mantel.
Not beside current family photographs.
But not hidden.
History.
That night, after cake, Caleb asked:
“Are you and Dad getting married again?”
I nearly choked.
Gabriel looked at me.
Then wisely answered:
“No.”
Caleb frowned.
“Why?”
Gabriel said:
“Because being your dad and being your mom’s husband are different jobs.”
Good.
“Can you do both?”
Ben asked.
Gabriel looked toward me.
“Only if your mother ever wants that.”
Three sets of gray-green eyes moved to me.
Traitorous genetics.
I said:
“Cake.”
The boys protested.
Gabriel laughed.
Question postponed.
May you like
Not answered.
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