No One Wins

When Micah Sinclair hugged my waist and swayed me, cream smeared onto my newly bought silk blouse. "Mom, I want Reese to be my godmother." He looked up, his small face still dusted with frosting from the birthday cake on his eyelashes. My hand faltered as I laid out the cutlery; the fine plates scraped softly against the tablecloth. Charles Sinclair happened to emerge from the study, pausing at the entrance upon hearing those words, his tie still hanging loosely around his neck. Three seconds of silence filled the air, broken only by Micah Sinclair's restless breathing. "Alright." I bent down to wipe the cream from Micah's face, my voice soft and gentle, "Only if you like it." Charles Sinclair visibly exhaled in relief, then quickly came over and placed his hands on my shoulders; the warmth of his fingertips seeped through my shirt. "Jane, you truly are so understanding and reasonable." His voice was laden with gratitude. "Rest assured, your place in this family will never be unsettled." I smiled faintly, said nothing, and turned to the kitchen to bring the last bowl of soup. Steam rose from the chicken soup in the clay pot, its aroma filling the entire dining room. I had specially simmered it three hours earlier; Charles had been complaining about being tired from work lately, and Micah needed extra nourishment. But just as I had placed the soup on the table, Micah Sinclair tugged at Charles Sinclair's sleeve and dashed out. "Dad, let's hurry and tell Reese this good news!" "Wait, Micah, I've prepared a table full of dishes..." I said instinctively, trying to hold them back. Charles Sinclair glanced back at the dining table, his brow barely furrowing. "Jane, leave the food for now; we'll be back soon." His voice carried a trace of urgency, "It's better if Reese makes things clear early on, so she won't overthink." The moment the door closed, the crystal chandelier in the dining room shone with an unusually piercing glare. I gazed at the table laden with exquisite dishes; the mushrooms bobbed in the soup, mirroring the unrest within me at this very moment. I picked up my phone and dialed the private bank manager. "Kathy, freeze all joint accounts and supplementary cards under my name. Also, temporarily lock the portion of liquid funds accessible by Charles Sinclair." There was a brief pause on the line before Kathy replied respectfully, "Understood, Mrs. Crystal, I will handle it immediately." After hanging up, I opened an encrypted chat window. "Help me look into Reese Shane. Focus on her financial status and social relationships." After the message was sent, I sat at the dining table and served myself a bowl of soup. The soup was fresh, but I couldn't taste any flavor. Charles Sinclair and Micah Sinclair came home at one in the morning. From the hallway came the scent of Reese Shane's perfume—a cloying gardenia fragrance, completely at odds with my usual woody scent. "Mom, Reese agreed!" Micah's little face, still smelling of alcohol, leaned closer. "Reese also said she'll take me to the amusement park tomorrow." Charles's complexion looked pale; his tie was crooked to one side, and two buttons at the collar of his shirt were undone. "Jane, did you use my card without asking?" His voice was tinged with suppressed anger. I put down my book and said calmly, "What's wrong?"