Chapter 5: The Gilded Cage
To understand the weight of that afternoon, one had to understand the house itself. The estate was less a home and more a museum. Every piece of furniture was curated, every painting authenticated, every surface polished to a mirror shine. It was a house entirely devoid of warmth. There were no family photos on the mantle, no chaotic piles of shoes by the door, no lingering smell of home-cooked meals.
Since Mateo’s mother had passed away three years prior, the house had been plunged into a deep freeze. Arthur had coped with his grief by burying himself in his empire, leaving Mateo to wander the cavernous halls alone. The boy was surrounded by priceless artifacts but starved for basic human connection. His tantrums had started small—refusing to eat, breaking pencils, slamming doors. But as his silent cries for attention went unanswered, the destruction escalated. The teacup was just the latest casualty in a long, desperate war for his father's attention.
