CHAPTER 2: Julian Stops the Music

Julian had been gone for three years.
Boarding school, then Oxford, then a year traveling under his father's orders so the newspapers could call him worldly instead of lonely.
The gala was supposed to be his return.
There was a toast waiting for him. There were investors waiting to clap. There was a photographer near the staircase, ready to catch the heir stepping into the room he would one day own.
Instead, Julian saw Margaret on her knees.
He did not notice the chandelier first, or the champagne, or the senator lifting a glass in greeting.
He saw the woman who had taught him to tie his shoes when no one else had time. He saw the woman who had held him through fevers behind the nursery door while his father's new wife hosted dinners downstairs.
He crossed the ballroom without speaking.
The guests shifted aside because wealth had trained them to recognize a storm before it broke.
Celeste's smile tightened.
"Julian, darling," she said. "You are early."
He did not answer her.
He lowered himself to Margaret's level and took the cloth from her shaking hand.
"Why is my mother on the floor?" he asked.