The grand dining hall hummed with hushed conversations as family members and servants filed in, confusion visible on their faces. It was unheard of for the staff to share the same table as the Jones family. The clinking of silverware filled the air, but the tension was thick.
Elizabeth entered with a flourish, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. Her eyes scanned the room, and a look of disdain crossed her face as she saw the staff seated at the table.
"How ridiculous," she spat, her voice slicing through the murmurs. She marched to the table, her fiery gaze silencing everyone in her path.
"Being invited to dinner doesn't mean sitting with us!" she bellowed, slamming her fists onto the table. The force made the glasses rattle, and a few nearly toppled over.
The maids scrambled to their feet, heads bowed, too frightened to move.
"Enough!" A commanding voice rang out, silencing the chaos. Everyone turned to see Mr. Jones entering, his presence quieting the room instantly.
"I said a collective dinner, and I meant it!" His voice left no room for argument as he stepped toward Elizabeth. In one swift motion, he slammed his hands onto the table, the sound reverberating through the hall.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to argue, but Mr. Jones raised a finger. "My house, my rules. Don't forget that." His tone softened as he patted her hair, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Sit down, Elizabeth."
Reluctantly, she sat, her cheeks flushed with humiliation, her fists clenched tightly in her lap.
The dinner carried on, with awkward laughter and forced conversation filling the room. Maxwell remained unusually quiet, his gaze flicking to his aunt and cousin every so often. Elizabeth cast sharp glances at her son, her jaw tight with unease.
By midnight, the guests moved to the sprawling garden behind the mansion. The full moon hung low in the sky, casting an ethereal glow over the gathering. Mr. Jones stood in the center, his glass of red wine raised high.
"One of the greatest blessings for a wolf," he began, his voice heavy, "is to witness the full moon surrounded by their pack."
The guests raised their glasses in unison, the sound of clinking crystal filling the air.
"To the years we've spent together," Mr. Jones said before downing his wine in one gulp.
As he lowered his glass, his gaze fell on Maxwell, who blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. Mr. Jones wiped a tear from his own cheek, his breath shaky as he continued.
"I am sorry to say that my time is running out," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "The illness… it has defeated me."
Gasps rippled through the crowd, but Mr. Jones held up a hand to silence them.
"I have failed you all, but I must prepare for what comes next. Tonight, I will announce my successor."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
Mr. Jones motioned for his assistant, Mr. Adam, to step forward. Adam placed a laptop and USB drive on a table near the fountain. With a flick of his wrist, he turned the screen toward the guests.
"I need to show you something," Mr. Jones said. "It's not easy, but it's necessary."
He signaled for Adam to play the first video. On the screen, Reynald could be seen in a dim room, crouched beside Maxwell's wheelchair, loosening bolts and adjusting the chair's mechanisms. The recording ended with Reynald smirking as he walked away.
A collective gasp spread through the room. Maxwell's eyes widened, and he looked at his grandfather, seeking answers.
The next video played, showing Elizabeth and Reynald in a quiet conversation. Elizabeth's voice was cold as she instructed him to "take care of it."
Elizabeth's face drained of color. Reynald's jaw clenched.
Mr. Jones turned to them, disappointment etched on his face. "You have betrayed this family, this pack, and my trust. I will not allow your actions to destroy what we've built."
He turned to Maxwell, his expression softening. "You, my boy, will take my place as the leader of this pack. I will make sure you have the guidance and support you need."
The room erupted in murmurs—some in support, others in disbelief. Elizabeth stormed forward, her face twisted with rage.
"You can't be serious!" she screamed. "Maxwell is weak! He can't lead us!"
Reynald joined her, venom dripping from his words. "This is a mistake. Maxwell is unfit for this role."
"Enough!" Mr. Jones shouted, silencing them both. "Your true colors have been revealed. Do not push me further."
Maxwell remained silent, his mind whirling. He didn't fully understand what was happening, but the tension in the air was palpable.
Reynald seemed utterly lost. He stormed out, slamming the door behind him so hard it shook the walls.
Elizabeth's voice was sharp and bitter. "Have you lost your mind, Father?" She grabbed Maxwell's hand roughly, holding it up. "Look at him! He can barely use his hands. His legs? Useless. He can't even speak properly. And this is who you want to lead us?"
Tears welled in her eyes as she continued, "We'll be a laughingstock. The Jones Pack, led by someone who can't even stand straight!"
Her fist slammed onto the desk, papers scattering. "Why do you hate me so much, Father?" she cried. "What did I do to deserve this? Why are you so unfair?"
With one final, broken look at her father, she turned and stormed out, tears streaming down her face.
Mr. Jones stood motionless, the weight of her words sinking deep into his chest. No words came to his defense as the room fell silent.